


Whiskey and Secrets

by flight_feather



Series: Shadows of Kadara [2]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alphabet, Bondage, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Long-Distance Relationship, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Smut, Torture, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 87,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flight_feather/pseuds/flight_feather
Summary: An alphabet fic continuing the story of Reyes Vidal and Lazuli Ryder, my custom Ryder featured inLooking for Trouble. Timeline is largely between the Kadara missions and Meridian, with a bit of drama afterward. Mostly from Reyes' POV. Some fluff, and as ever with these two, drinking, swearing, shady behavior, and smut. Originally intended to be a collection of drabbles and one-shots, but repurposed to a full fic when I realized they were all stringing together.





	1. Aches

It was deep in the night cycle on Kadara and, as usual, Reyes was having difficulty sleeping despite his enthusiastic exertions with Ryder and the comfort of her bed on the Tempest. She had passed out shortly after they’d finished, hastened on her way by the addition of his sexual attentions to the residual heat exhaustion she was experiencing from her recent mission to activate the vault on Elaaden. 

Normally she gave a commanding impression despite her short stature, tattoos, and blue hair, but when she was curled up against his side in the enveloping tangle of bed linens he saw how small she really was. How soft and almost fragile she appeared without the bulk of the mismatched armor she salvaged together from the best bits of tech she could scavenge, now littered in a trail from door to bed, telling the tale of her eagerness for him. Seeing her like this rarely failed to awaken a tenderness he never thought to find in himself.

He had one arm wrapped around her, thinking through his plans for the next stage of Kadara Port’s development. _A school, maybe. We will need a decent school eventually if families are going to settle._ He stroked Ryder’s arm, idly wondering if it was too soon to ask what she thought about maybe having kids someday, and she stirred. He grinned, preparing to wake her for round three.

A synthetic voice piped up from his omnitool in low tones. “Mr Vidal.” 

Reyes froze, glancing at his pistol on the bedside table. _What the fuck?_ “Yes…” he replied cautiously. 

“Apologies for the disturbance. This is SAM, the Pathfinder’s AI counterpart. I would ask you to refrain from any action that may awaken her, as she has not slept this deeply in some time and I would like to execute repair protocols.” 

Reyes went rigid. Repair protocols? She was injured, and let him do all that he’d done? Some of their activity had been...creative. And flexible. And, well...vigorous. Always vigorous, the two of them. “Did I hurt her?” he whispered, afraid of the answer. 

“On the contrary, Mr Vidal. She was injured in battle and has been subconsciously ignoring the pain in a manner that I am still learning to understand. She is also suffering from the side effects of manipulating Remnant technology on Elaaden. Your relations released hormones conducive to deep relaxation. This is the optimal state in which to conduct repairs.”

The AI didn’t elaborate further, and Reyes’ hold on Ryder tightened before he forced himself to loosen up lest he wake her. She sighed and snuggled closer, strands of dark blue hair falling over her face. His usual protective feelings toward her rose stronger than ever. How could she give of herself so completely that she didn’t realize she was hurt? What kind of man was he for not seeing it? He cast his mind back over the evening, trying to think of when she had limped, or favored a limb, or flinched away in pain. As far as he could recall, she hadn’t so much as grimaced.

“SAM,” he murmured.

“Yes, Mr Vidal?”

“I didn’t know she was injured.” 

“Nobody would, Mr Vidal. The Remnant-related damage is mostly at the cellular level, and she sustained several hairline fractures as a result of aerial attacks.”

Reyes reflexively pulled her closer still, wincing at the small noise she made in her sleep. The idea of the AI watching them fuck didn’t bother him; if anything, an audience only spurred him on. The idea that she was slowly being destroyed at a microscopic level _did_ bother him. He felt a rage growing in him at the knowledge that his queen was killing herself to provide colonies and safety for people who would never appreciate her as he did, who may never even know the extent of the sacrifice she made for every viable world. Did those assholes on the Nexus even know, or care, what the cost was to her?

 _Calm down, it’s her job. If fucking her lets her relax enough for her AI to fix her, then you’re helping...and Kadara has benefitted as much as the Nexus_ , he reminded himself, striving for honesty in his own head. There were some battles he could not fight and some sacrifices that would have to be made. This was one of those battles, but he hoped she would not be one of the sacrifices. 

Pushing dark thoughts away, he closed his eyes and willed himself to dream of the future.

***

When they woke the next morning, Ryder stretched, rubbing her full length against him in an innocent but completely arousing fashion. “Mmm…” she groaned wonderingly, the noises not helping the throbbing of his cock in the slightest. “I feel...good. Not achy at all.” 

Blinking at her in sleepy contentment, Reyes gathered her in his arms and squeezed, hard. She squirmed and giggled, inspiring him to tickle her. Her giggles turned to shrieks and shouts of laughter as she tried to wiggle her way to an escape. “Reyes, please! I -” a squeal of laughter “- I give up! You - ahhh - you win! I said you win, you - eee hehe! - you bastard!” She dissolved into peals of gasping giggles and decidedly un-Ryder-like shrieks, slapping and squirming and trying to evade his fingers. 

Not content with merely winning he pinned her beneath him, holding her wrists over her head with one hand and keeping most of his weight off her with the other arm. Pressing his lips gently to hers, he murmured, “Promise me something.” She nodded, eyes still wide and damp with tears of mirth. “Be careful out there. If ever you didn’t come back to me, I’d be lost.” He was uncomfortable admitting it but he meant it. He was committed to being a better man but without her to guide him, he knew he’d lose his way. It frightened him, although he was unsure whether it was because he needed her so much or because the darker side of him sometimes wanted him to give in and embrace Kadara’s shadows.

Her face grew serious, aqua-colored eyes as deep and limitless as the sea as they gazed into his. “I can’t promise I’ll always be careful, but I will always try to come back to you,” she said solemnly. It was all he could ask, given her role as Pathfinder. She shifted beneath him, trying to distract him. Neither of them was particularly good with feelings, but both were good with sex.

Reyes usually woke up hard in the morning; today was no exception. All her wriggling and gasping noises on top of his heightened protectiveness had only made it worse. He kissed her again, releasing her wrists to run a hand up her inner thigh and rub her clit suggestively. The little shiver she made, with full lips curling up like a cat’s and heat flaring to life in her eyes told him she was willing, and he whispered endearments in her ear in Spanish as he slowly but passionately made love to her. 

Afterward, she settled herself with her head on his chest, playing with the sparse hairs he had there. “That was...different. I liked it. Not for every time, but I liked it,” she said, glancing up at him devilishly. He wouldn’t want it that gentle every time, either, but he couldn’t bring himself to be as rough with her as they both preferred after SAM’s revelations last night. 

Her next words were a bit of a shock. “I think SAM likes you,” she said abruptly. “It’s weird, he’s never expressed an opinion on anyone before. But he says you’re ‘conducive to a state of good health’, whatever that’s supposed to mean, and asked if we should consider adding you to the access list for the Tempest.” 

Reyes snorted a laugh. The AI had said that, had it? Was it trying to make sure the Pathfinder got laid? Given the neutral or negative attitude of the rest of the crew towards him, having SAM’s approval was a definite win. “If Dr SAM says so, I guess you’ll just have to keep me around - no matter how much I tickle you,” he teased, dragging her on top of him and pulling her down for a kiss. 

He hoped she’d keep him around. The first time she’d been away for a while he had an achy feeling in his chest and an inability to focus that made him think he’d been coming down with a cold. Keema had laughed herself silly at his insistence that he was ill, eventually telling him that she was certain he only missed his mate and would feel better once she returned. Now when Ryder was gone on Pathfinder business he recognized the aching sensation as missing her, a longing that only went away when she returned to Kadara. His secret hope was that one day they could settle in their own little homestead in the badlands, living and loving together. 

One day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually intended for [Looking for Trouble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10904271), but it didn't fit with where the story was going so I cut it and fleshed it out. Shady bastards can want nice things too, right?


	2. Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ryder takes off to deal with a threat in the badlands, the Charlatan watches his greatest investment gamble with her life.

Reyes rolled his whiskey glass on its bottom edge, the tables in Kralla’s Song being cleaner than those in Tartarus and allowing it to rotate smoothly. Ryder had wanted a change of scenery and to see the sun, so they’d snagged one of the small tables near the wide viewport at the back of the bar, lounging against each other more companionably than Reyes would have allowed had he been conscious of it. Knowledge of his affair with the Pathfinder was limited to her crew, Keema, and Kian, with everyone else thinking he was just her flirtatious informant, and he wanted to keep it that way. Not for nefarious reasons, as Cora assumed, but for her protection. Should anyone discover that he was the Charlatan and she was his woman, she’d be in danger. Real danger, from ugly, nasty sorts of people. And to be fair to him, Ryder had enemies of her own who would be all too happy to compromise her by taking the seemingly easy step of capturing a third-rate smuggler worth nothing to anyone except the Pathfinder. 

Ryder’s omnitool beeped and she glanced at it in annoyance. “I told them no interruptions,” she muttered, before sighing. “It’s from Vetra, marked urgent. She wouldn’t mess around. Do you mind?” 

“Not at all.” Reyes had his own business he could check up on. The work of a secret crime lord was never done. 

“Ryder,” Vetra’s buzzy voice came through over the comm channel. “We’re picking up an SOS from the badlands, out in Kurinth’s Valley.” Ryder opened her mouth to complain about every other SOS they’d ever picked up when Vetra rushed on, anticipating this pet peeve of hers. “We analyzed readings from the area and there’s something massive out there. Architect massive.”

“Shit,” Ryder said, slumping and rubbing a hand over her face. Reyes’ attention sharpened. Whatever an Architect was, it had Ryder both resigned and apprehensive. Nervous, even. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes. You and Drack suit up, meet me at the closest forward station with the Nomad.” Closing the channel with Vetra, she slid her mostly-full glass across the table to Reyes. “Drinks are on me, Vidal. We’ll finish this discussion before I leave port.”

That meant this was bad, and he wanted to ask a million questions, but he settled for a quick pout and a cocky wink in character with Vidal, her information broker, rather than the cold practicality of the Charlatan or the passionate protectiveness of Reyes, her lover. “Until next time, _nena_ ,” he flirted, voice as sweet and golden as honey. Instead of her usual exasperated response - in keeping with her own charade as the long-suffering Pathfinder - she kept her eyes on his face a moment too long, as if memorizing him, then turned abruptly and jogged out. 

He drank the two whiskeys a tad bit faster than was usually his wont before nodding to Umi - Ryder had indeed covered the tab this time, sweet of her - and sauntering out. He wanted to run to his private room in Tartarus, but it wouldn’t do to be seen hurrying out right after the Pathfinder. So he strolled, hands in his pockets, the picture of casual unconcern even as his mind raced. There was nothing out in Kurinth’s Valley except for some stubborn angara homesteaders, a couple of his Collective cells, and some of his weapons caches, so what could she be so worried about?

The lift took forever to rattle down to the slums. He took the stairs to the upper floor of the club two at a time, ignoring Kian’s hail. He’d barely locked the door behind him before he was calling operatives in the nearest cell to the Valley on his encrypted, voice-scrambled line. Normally the Charlatan worked downwards through the chain, but his stomach felt like a lead weight was sitting in it and he’d learned not to ignore that feeling. “I have reports that the Pathfinder left in a hurry for the badlands. Find out where she went. If there’s anything unusual, I want eyes on it.”

The wait wasn’t long, but at the same time, it was too long. He paced in the small room, trigger finger twitching. Wishing there was something he could do, someone he could shoot. 

“We have the Pathfinder. And a...it’s...holy hell, I don’t even know what to call this thing!” 

_An Architect_ , Reyes supplied mentally. “Do you have visuals?”

“Affirmative.” 

Reyes transferred the call to his terminal, pulling up the streaming video - and went dead cold. A Remnant machine the size of a small skyscraper, fluid as a snake, with a glowing triangular head and three smoothly articulated legs flowed over the landscape as if searching for something. _That_ was an Architect? And Ryder was...of course, she was barrelling straight for it in her trademark, _unarmed_ golden tank like the crazy, noble, _stupid_ hero she was, flying down a mountainside as the mechanical beast settled on the ground and trained a pink-tinged beam on her. The shining tank swerved as the triangular head spat a blue burst of...energy? An EMP? That crackled on the rough stone in her wake. He could only imagine what it would do to a settlement...or to Kadara Port.

It was one thing to know she did dangerous things in the role of Pathfinder. Hell, her ability to handle every situation he brought to her was one of the things that convinced the Charlatan of her necessity and Reyes of her attractiveness. _Seeing_ her do dangerous things, unimaginable things, like roar towards a _fucking Remnant titan bigger than her ship_ armed with nothing more than the guns on her back and two squadmates - that was another thing entirely.

 _Cold, I need to be cold, the only way I can help her is as the Charlatan. Think!_ He'd have to risk openly aiding her. “Get ammo boxes and medpacks airdropped at that location.”

“Airdropped there?” 

The Charlatan was not accustomed to being questioned, and his voice dropped into the dangerous range, murderous in its chill. “Was I unclear?”

“No, but -”

“If the Pathfinder dies on Kadara, the Nexus will find a way to pin it on us. _Get. Those. Crates. Dropped_.”

“Affirmative!”

He watched, nearly forgetting to breathe, as the Nomad spun its wheels in reverse a scant 200 meters from its foe and the hatches flew open. Ryder launched herself out before the tank had even finished skidding to a halt. Drack and Vetra were close behind her, the three of them tearing off _straight toward the fucking machine_. Were they all completely insane?

Apparently so. He watched in awe as Ryder dodged grenade clusters, EMP blasts, and machine gun fire that would have taken down a starship. He’d never realized what a minimalist she was until he watched her move the slightest distance possible to avoid being caught up in a blast. His balls clenched as an EMP skirted close enough to her to spark her barrier. Each flashing biotic blink took her closer to the creature until she was right up against one of its pillar-like legs. _What the hell?_

He understood a moment later. Her flamethrower was ravaging the soft connectors of the mechanical limb while closing in and using the mounds of rock as cover made it harder for it to target her. _She’s upgraded the flamethrower since the battle with Zia_ , the clinical part of him thought distantly, _and she’s got incendiary ammo now as well. What is it with this woman and fire?_

The behemoth shuddered, its tulip head closing. _What…?_ In a shimmering beam of blue, two miniature versions of itself and two floating bots materialized. Ryder didn’t miss a beat, capturing the aerial bots in a singularity for Vetra to pick off before weakening the armor of the siege units with her flamethrower, enabling Drack to shatter the constructs with his hammer.

Leaving the mostly damaged leg, she tore around a Remnant pillar to target a second leg, weakening it significantly before the Architect created yet more minions. In the brief pause in fire his operatives soared past in a shuttle overhead, scattering crates across the area while the Remnant was creating more of itself and unable to target the nimble vehicle littering the battlefield with spare ammo and medigel. Ryder wasted no time blinking to the nearest crate and reloading. She was breathing heavily already and had a long way to go from the look of things. How long could she keep this up?

The Charlatan thanked his pilot, ordered him to a safe distance to maintain visuals, and closed the comm channel, only to open it again when he remembered the Pathfinder had given him the codes used by her team in case of emergency. He was pretty sure this qualified.

“...head is open!” Vetra’s voice shouted. And indeed, a layer of armor had opened as the Architect redoubled its attacks, targeting the small squad directly from its most terrible - and most vulnerable - point. He watched, pained, as Ryder huddled against one of the Remnant pillars trying to avoid both bullets and the shards of rock flying from the machine gun’s blast. Heard her grunt of pain over the comm channel as shattered rubble struck her, saw her tuck even deeper into the crevice she sought shelter in rather than stumble back, expose herself, and take a deadly hit. As soon as the gun quieted she was peering out, firing everything she had at the exposed head.

Over and over, the pattern repeated itself. Ryder and her squad weakening each of the legs in turn, eliminating minions, crippling the head, until one of the legs was destroyed. The Architect launched itself skyward, resettling in a more defensible position. Again, the team worked to weaken the remaining two legs and head. The Pathfinder’s biotic blinks began to look ragged but the yellow and orange of her flames still washed over the Charlatan’s vision with incredible brightness, even at the distance his pilot was recording from. 

A second leg toppled, and the Architect moved again, this time to a craggy outcrop above the squad’s current position. The cliffs provided cover but they were too high for the Pathfinder’s squad to fire over, forcing them to huddle in the meager protection of half-buried Remnant ruins. The Charlatan observed coldly, calculating odds and creating plans to execute based on the Pathfinder’s success or failure. Rallying Kadara. Forestalling the Nexus. Evacuating the port. Burying the Pathfinder. Using her as a symbol of what they could accomplish. Tying her up and never letting her attempt something _so fucking dangerous_ again.

Incredibly, they did it. The third leg fell to her assault rifle; the head to Drack’s flack cannon. Clearly exhausted, she launched herself with a stumble over the meager cover of a protruding Remnant structure and ran at the downed monster. Collapsing to one knee in front of it, her fingers waggled over her omnitool. 

“Got it,” he heard her gasp over the comms. “Reprogrammed.”

The creature launched itself into the sky, into orbit, and was gone. 

With an exhaustion that was obvious even over vidcon, she and her crew found their feet and collected bits of tech, then trudged to the Nomad and turned it in the direction of Kadara Port. The Charlatan turned off the vidfeed and authorized a bonus for the cell in Kurinth’s Valley plus generous hazard pay for the pilot and shuttle crew. Unlike Sloane, he took care of his people. 

***

“Pathfinder’s rover just pulled up to the gate,” Kian warned him, speaking quietly into the comm channel to avoid attention. The Charlatan didn’t reply, only stood and unlocked the door. Waiting. He was terribly impressed by what she'd accomplished, but he had words for the Pathfinder.

Heavy footsteps approached, accompanied by the thud of a hand slapping the door before it could open. The Pathfinder stumbled in, armor scratched and dented, covered in dirt and blood and shiny patches of dried medigel, hunched over with head hanging in exhaustion. He shut the doors behind her, and she looked up...paused.

There was a wariness in her eyes reminiscent of a leopard cornered, at the end of its strength, that told a far-off part of his mind it was still the Charlatan regarding her - and she knew it, sensed the danger. He felt the beast within him rise to challenge hers, stare back at her pitilessly as she heaved deep, tired breaths; not quite panting, but the slow, harsh respiration of a creature run to the ground and struggling to recover. 

He found Reyes within himself just in time to dart forward and catch her as she collapsed. Cradling her unconscious form against his chest, he started stripping armor from her with one hand as he shouted into his omnitool. “Kian! I need a medpack, food, water, rags, and whiskey, _now_!”

The bartender made it up the stairs right as he finished removing her armor and lifted her dead weight into his arms. Reyes gestured with his chin to one of the tables, where Kian dumped his armload as Reyes settled Ryder onto the couch. “I’m not here, and neither is she,” he said to Kian as he straightened her shaking limbs. “I don’t care what you have to do, if you have to buy ten rounds for the entire bar to make them forget, I’ll pay it off later. No calls, no visits, no questions, nothing. If you have footage, wipe it. This didn't happen.” He saw Kian nod and make his exit.

Ryder lay shivering and unconscious under the thin blanket he’d draped over her for a good half hour. He wiped as much of the blood and dirt off as he could and sipped the whiskey to calm his nerves. Finally, she came to with a gasp. “Shhh sh sh, you’re in Tartarus, with me, with Reyes. You're safe, _mi amor_ ,” he said quietly as he knelt beside her without touching her, trying to forestall the full-blown biotic panic he knew she’d launch into if she didn’t immediately recognize where she was. It seemed to work because she calmed, eyelids still fluttering but bleary gaze settling on him with recognition. 

“Reyes…” she acknowledged weakly but with relief, as she always did. He didn’t know why she hadn’t gone back to the Tempest and its medbay rather than risk ending up in this state somewhere in the slums, but he didn’t care. She’d come to him, before any others, and he’d take care of her. He was her man, and he would ensure her wellbeing.

“What do you need?”

The question seemed to confuse her because her brow furrowed, unfocused eyes tracking up and left in a way he'd learned indicated a discussion with her AI. “Mmm...SAM?”

The AI cut in via her omnitool. “Water first. Then food. Then more rest. I can accelerate healing so that she will be recovered in a few hours.” Reyes complied, gently tipping the beaker of water to her lips until she drank it dry, then sitting on the couch and pulling her upright in his lap to feed her morsels from the ration packs. “Dammit, Ryder, I thought I was going to lose you,” he said gruffly.

“Is that why the Charlatan answered the door?” she retorted weakly.

He was surprised she remembered and couldn’t answer for a moment, recalling the battle and the way she stumbled in half-dead from exhaustion afterward. He genuinely hadn’t been sure she would survive that fight and hadn’t wanted to face the reality of it as Reyes. “Yes,” he admitted grudgingly, remembering his promise not to lie to her about the big stuff.

She smiled weakly before falling asleep on his shoulder. Carefully, carefully, he shifted them to lay back to front on the couch, with her safely wrapped in his arms. The Charlatan might be pleased by the elimination of the threat posed by the Architect, but Reyes was still hoping his love would be alright.

He felt better later when she swiveled her hips against him and twisted to awaken him with a kiss, apparently much recovered. Wiggling out of the lower part of her underarmor, she reached behind her to rub him to full wakefulness. 

“Can I make it up to you?” she asked in a voice husky with both sleep and want. 

“Always,” he whispered back as he shifted his own trousers down and allowed her to stroke the length of his cock. In moments he was hard enough to take her, sliding into her slick wetness with a groan of satisfaction. 

Before long they’d rotated, him on top, her on her belly, and he was thrusting into her with the urgency of a man who thought he’d never fuck again. With one hand around her throat and the other at the crease of her hips, he growled into her ear, “Never. Leave me like that. Again.”

Whatever she'd been about to say was lost as he tightened his grip on her and quickened his movements until she shuddered beneath him, gasping her climax. He was savage in his, biting her at the juncture of shoulder and neck and sucking hard to leave a mark. She was his, and no-one, nothing, would take her from him. Not even an Architect.

“Reyes…” she murmured as they settled again. She started dozing off.

“Mmm?”

“Don't tell anyone, but I reprogrammed the Architect so it answers to you now, too. Just in case Kadara needs it later. Don't do anything stupid with it.”

The Charlatan rose up in him and smiled chillingly, pleased his investment in the Pathfinder was paying off so spectacularly. Reyes just loved her for wanting to protect Kadara. Both were resolved to protect her to the death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always kind of annoyed me that there were loads of random crates scattered around the Architect fight area for no apparent reason, so I invented one.


	3. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes receives a mysterious call in the middle of the night from someone he wasn't expecting. Smutty at the end.

A quiet, repetitive beep woke Reyes from his light sleep. Pulling one arm from around Ryder, he looked at his omnitool and wondered how an unknown had gotten his details. He was a good enough smuggler that he could afford to work only via direct introduction, and it had been a long time since he didn't recognize a contact request. Finding the source was doubly important now that he was the Charlatan, and only compounded again by the fact that he was sleeping with the Pathfinder. 

Gently, so as not to awaken his lover, he slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. “Who is this,” he answered flatly, eyes still on Ryder. The curve of her hip under the sheet, dimly illuminated by the lights of the port, was enticing.

“Reyes Vidal?” A man’s voice. Young, probably Ryder’s age.

“Who’s asking?” He was pretty sure he was the only one in Andromeda, but old, cagey habits died hard.

A pause on the other end of the line. “This is Scott Ryder.” Reyes said nothing. Laz had mentioned her twin brother had accompanied her on the expedition but he hadn’t realized she had also mentioned him to this twin - or what she’d said - and wasn’t sure how to respond. “My sister gave me these contact details in case anything happened to her,” the other Ryder continued after a moment, sounding vaguely irritated. 

_Be nice. He may be inconsiderate but you’re going to be family one day, if you don’t fuck things up._ “How can I help you, Scott?” he asked neutrally.

A derisive snort on the other end of the line. “I tell you my sister gave me these details in case something happens to her, and you don’t even ask about her? Do you even care? I knew it. I knew as soon as I read your file that you couldn’t be the type to -”

“The type to what?” he interrupted coldly. Not quite the deadly tones of the Charlatan, but certainly those of a very pissed off Reyes Vidal. 

“To care! I knew you were just using her! What are you doing with her?”

It was like that, was it? He glanced at Ryder, eyes tracing the long, graceful lines of her. Her breathing was still slow and deep. A mirthless grin spread across Reyes’ face. "At the moment, I’m watching her sleep,” he replied flippantly.

Shocked silence, followed by spluttering. Excellent.

“She’s in my bed, a bit worn out from the outlaw party we went to earlier and the...fun...we got up to afterwards. Quite the catch, your sister. Wild little thing,” he continued, making his voice a suggestive purr at the end. 

Scott finally found his tongue. “How dare you!” 

Reyes had had enough. “No,” he said harshly, turning around and trying to keep his voice low so as not to awaken Ryder. “How dare _you_ , calling unannounced in the middle of the night with accusations and assumptions. I may not be the most upstanding of citizens, but I _do_ care about your sister. I would kill for her in a heartbeat, which you would know already had you sent a message asking civilized questions.”

The silence this time had an air of chagrin to it. “I’m sorry,” Scott finally grated out, sounding like it pained him. 

“Good night, Scott.”

“Good night, Vidal.”

He sighed and closed the channel. As a first introduction that hadn't gone well, but he refused to be disrespected by anyone. He'd learned the hard way that that never ended happily, for either party. Now Reyes was _always_ top dog, and Scott would just have to come to accept both that fact and Reyes’ relationship with Laz, because he wasn't letting her go. He turned back towards the bed, stopping as he saw her awake and watching him, propped up on her elbows. Shit. A rare flush of embarrassment rose in him - had she heard what he said?

“I heard all of it,” she answered his unspoken question with a lopsided grin. “I’m sorry, I forgot to warn you that I gave him your details in case something happened to the Tempest and the Nexus didn’t want to tell you. I had no idea he would do that. Usually he’s quieter in his disapproval of what I get up to, or at least less confrontational. Nicely done, though, setting him in his place. He was always a judgemental little shit growing up.” She grinned, teeth white in the faint light. “Don't worry. He'll warm up to you. Hasn't disowned me yet, anyway.”

With an abashed smile, Reyes climbed back into bed, wondering at the sly smile she suddenly took on.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m a wild little thing, am I?” she replied, sly smile becoming a feral grin. “Let me just show you…”

She pounced before he could protest, catching him off-guard and wrestling him to his back with a shout. He started to wrangle her off and take the upper hand, changing his mind when she started to grind her crotch against his growing erection. Usually he preferred to be in the dominant position but this was nice...very nice, especially when she leaned forward to nip the skin over his throat, her nipples skimming his chest. He could let her play top this once.

One hand clawed down his abs just hard enough to hurt, and he hissed as she took his cock and started stroking. He was hard in moments and she rose up, teasing him by dragging the tip of him along her wetness.

“Laz...” he warned in a growl. He only used her first name when he was being serious, and she knew it.

“Reyes…” she growled back sassily, an impish light in her eyes. _What the hell has gotten into the Ryder twins this evening?_ he wondered with mild exasperation. 

Before he could grab her hips and force her down, she impaled herself, taking him all the way to the hilt. Head thrown back in pleasure, she rose up and did it again, and again, moaning. Reyes reached up and pinched a nipple with each hand, making her cry out. 

She rode him hard, taking him all the way in and undulating her hips forward and back, using him to hit her spot until she came. He groaned in pained pleasure as she raked his chest with her nails, leaving long scratches. When she stopped clenching around him he flipped their positions, pumping into her hard and fast to take his own satisfaction. He came with a roar, spilling himself into her for the second time that night.

The stared at each other, fierce expressions mirror images of each other. “I will always take care of you,” he panted, withdrawing but not moving from his position over her. “Never doubt that.”

“I know,” she said, eyes softening as she brushed a lock of hair out of his face. “And I you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'll eventually write a chapter where they're not in bed. It won't be the next one (hmmm, what could D stand for?) but probably for E.
> 
> Speaking of the next chapter, if smut, bondage, and/or dark/Charlatan Reyes are not your thing, I strongly suggest skipping it. If they are, please read on!


	4. Dominant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder consents to trying something new with the Charlatan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: heavy smut, bondage, Charlatan Reyes. However this is all consented to in a state of sobriety.
> 
> This was a difficult one for me to write because while it seemed like the kind of thing they'd explore together I wanted to find a respectful, consenting, and caring balance for the relationship when writing it. Hopefully it works.

It was strange for Ryder to be in Tartarus but not upstairs in Reyes’ private room. She'd told him she would be there tonight, treating those of her crew not too stuffy to come out to some long-overdue drinks, but he had yet to make an appearance in the lower area of the bar. _Charlatan business_ , she assumed, _or avoiding the crew._ Fair enough, either way. She tended to consume large chunks of his time when she was on Kadara, leaving him much to catch up on if nobody was to make the connection between the Pathfinder’s visits and a drop in the Charlatan’s drop in productivity. Peebee - and SAM, surprisingly - were the only members of her crew to warm up to him, so she was sure that played into it as well. 

She was still sober thanks to SAM, and rounding up a drunk Peebee, wasted Liam, rowdy Drack, and tipsy Vetra to head back to the ship when a hand was suddenly at the small of her back and his voice in her ear, pitched low, enticing. “Time for one more, Pathfinder?” She jumped. He knew she hated it when he snuck up on her - however rarely he managed it - and his cheeky, triumphant grin in response to her glare was classic Reyes. There was an edge to it though, one she was having trouble reading in the dim light of the lounge. Unless she was mistaken, it hinted at the Charlatan.

Drack was too busy boasting to hear, and Liam and Peebee too far gone, but Vetra looked up sharply. Seeing Reyes behind Ryder, she flapped her mandibles in a gesture Ryder interpreted as annoyed resignation. “Stay if you want. I'll get these miscreants back to the ship.” Ryder smiled gratefully and nodded, laughing as Vetra corralled the Terribly Tempestuous Trio, as they were now announcing themselves to be, out into the night. Reyes had already ducked back into his hidey-hole at the top of the stairs, and she followed him up.

He was waiting as the door opened and closed behind her, a look of anticipation on his face but no drinks in hand despite keeping a supply of whiskey in the room. It was strange enough that she stopped and looked at him more closely.

There was something predatory about him this evening. He’d been doing Charlatan work for sure, because his golden wolf’s eyes were still hard with it. “Do I want to know what you've been up to?” She asked carefully, on full alert.

He started pacing around her slowly, making a noise of negation when she started to turn to keep him in view. The last time she'd seen him like this was after her battle with the Architect in the badlands; she remembered watching him wrestle with himself in the moments before she collapsed from exhaustion, caught between a need for distance from the risk of losing her and a need to care for her. She never quite knew what he would do when his mind was in this place, what the Charlatan would find important or necessary to advancing his myriad plans and schemes for Kadara. The part of her that enjoyed playing with fire found him incredibly hot like this. The part of her trained to respond to threats was screaming as he passed behind her, and she shivered.

“Someone needed to die tonight,” he said emotionlessly as he came back round in front of her. “There was a fight. We won.” Ryder relaxed ever so slightly, relieved that he'd told her part of the truth at least. She hoped she wouldn't regret not pressing him on the details of _why_ someone had needed to die, or who. The Nexus gave her enough trouble for her connection with him as it was.

As she relaxed he moved, rushing her. Eyes widening, she tried to step back, only to hit the door. She didn't have time to gasp before his lips were on hers, consuming her with all the emotion that had been missing from his eyes. His hands ran up her flanks roughly, slipping under her shirt and bra to tweak her nipples. She moaned into his mouth, trembling, as her reckless side won and she gave into her rising libido. Her arms went round his waist almost of their own accord and he smiled against her lips, breaking the kiss to purr into her ear. “Did you know there's a secret room here?”

Ryder took a ragged breath. “No,” she whispered. 

“How do you feel about being tied up?” 

Her breath caught. “I've never tried it,” she admitted.

“Would you like to?”

She thought quickly. Ever since Sloane's assassination and their fight in the cave afterward he had been careful to keep the Charlatan hidden away from her. If he was willing to show her more of himself, she wanted to see it...and if she was honest with herself, she enjoyed it when he dominated her in bed. There was something...freeing about it. She needed that tonight.

“Yes,” she said softly. He pulled back to read her eyes and she held his gaze, not challenging, but level. A small smirk quirked his lips and he took her hand, leading her to a spot next to the terminal and pressing into the wall with spread fingers. A panel slid open noiselessly, motion-activated lights flickering on as they entered. The room was small, the size of a large bedroom, with a queen bed in one corner, some kind of rack on the opposite wall, and a shelf full of neatly organized devices and toys.

For a moment, Ryder could only gape. Her secret crime boss boyfriend had a hidden sex dungeon? She wasn't sure why she was surprised, but still turned and regarded him with raised eyebrows.

“Came with the private room. Kian used to host parties,” the Charlatan explained nonchalantly as he walked to the shelf. “Come here.”

Swallowing, she followed him, eyes on the items carefully laid out. “Listen,” he demanded, and she looked at him, unable to resist the command in his voice. “In this room, I may be dominant but you are in control. If you say the safeword, or tap out, I will stop immediately. Otherwise, you do as I say, and only as I say, when I say it, or you'll be punished. Understood?” She nodded. “Say it,” he insisted. “Yes,” she said aloud. 

She settled on a word, whispered it to him. He smiled. “That will work...let's test it now.” Slowly, so that she was aware of what he was doing, he wrapped a hand around her throat. She didn't say anything, allowing him to tighten his grip. Tighter, until she struggled for air, fighting off memories of Habitat 7...and gasped out her word as SAM started compensating. The Charlatan dropped his hand and stepped back out of her space, watching her pant. 

She could deal with this. Reyes was a careful man by nature, but whatever he became when he needed to be the Charlatan added an extra measure of self control. “SAM, privacy mode,” she ordered. “Don't manipulate my physiology until we're done, and then only if it's really needed.”

“Affirmative, Pathfinder.”

The Charlatan smiled his wolf’s smile, clearly pleased. “You definitely want to do this?” When she nodded and replied with a yes, he gestured to the shelf. “Pick anything you'd be comfortable having me use.”

She turned to look at it. Some of these things were never in a million years coming near her but...she picked up a blindfold, a pair of silken ropes, a vibrator that she switched on and off to gauge its strength. That should do for a first time, Ryder thought as she turned to hand them to him. He pointed to the bed, so she laid everything out as carefully as it had been arranged in the shelf.

“Good girl,” he purred as he picked up the blindfold. “Strip, then turn around.” She did so, heart pounding. She'd done any number of crazy things in her 22 years, but never anything like this. The man had secrets, but when his greatest one had been unexpectedly revealed to her and she'd seriously considered killing him rather than be compromised, he'd defused the situation without causing her any more hurt than she'd forced him to in order to preserve his own life. She trusted him not to go overboard here.

When the last item of clothing hit the floor, she turned and closed her eyes as he settled the blindfold over them. His hand between her shoulderblades pushed her to the bed, kept pushing until she was prone on her stomach, then firmly took both her wrists behind her back. The rope hissed as he knotted them together. Her ankles were next, bound loosely together and then to her wrists. Another hiss as more rope twined round her neck, a tug as that was also tied to her wrists. 

“Try to break free,” he ordered. In her first attempt she tried rotating her wrists, feeling for the knots to unravel them, but they were too tight for her awkward position. She tried fighting them next, finding that any movement to bring her ankles down pulled her head up further. After struggling hard enough that she felt the tingle of a biotic flare and achieved nothing more than mild strangulation, she stopped, panting.

“Good,” the Charlatan said right next to her ear. She jerked away, not realizing he'd been that close. His chuckle was low and deep as he ran a thumb along her bottom lip. That usually meant…

Sure enough, she heard the snap of the fastener on his trousers, the soft rustle and thump of clothes and belt falling to the floor, and then felt the velvet soft tip of his dick, following the path his thumb had just traced. She opened her mouth, anticipating his want, and he pushed deep into her mouth. She had to swallow as he reached the back of her throat, glad she'd taken a breath when he pinched her nose to cut off her air. For long moments they stayed like that, before the lack of air began to make itself known. She tensed, ready to tap out, and he withdrew. 

Gasping, she listened as he shed more clothing - his shirt? - before catching her by the hair and pushing in again. He thrust a few times before catching her off-guard with another nose pinch, releasing her again just as she was ready to signal.

He rolled her onto her back without warning, then...nothing. She squirmed, trying to get comfortable. Silence and absence of touch greeted her quickened breathing. What was he doing? Where was he? Her eyes roved beneath her blindfold, instinctively trying to see where he was as her ears strained for the slightest whisper of noise.

She realized the anticipation was all part of his game when he suddenly proceeded to taunt and tease her with lips, breath, fingers, and tongue over her lips, neck, breasts, lower belly, and thighs, never with any pattern and not touching her increasingly wet pussy. It was the most maddening and somehow arousing experience Ryder had ever had. She writhed in her bonds. “Reyes, please…” 

Without hesitation he rolled her halfway over and gave her a solid spank on the ass that made her jump, choking slightly as her legs tried to kick. “When I want you to beg, I'll tell you,” he said sternly. She whimpered, swallowing another plea. “Better,” he said approvingly. 

Then he left her again. Ryder shifted, trying to create friction by rubbing her legs together and failing because she was so wet. She started to whine, caught it in her throat. 

She was rewarded with the buzz of the vibrator in her left ear, startling her enough to yelp. The next time it buzzed was at her nipple, eliciting another startled noise. Then it was at her clit and she bucked in surprise, only for him to trap her with a gentle yet firm hand at her throat. “How long can you lay still?” He taunted her in a low voice.

The answer was, not very long. Between his hand and the ropes it was becoming difficult to breathe, but she was just about to come. He stopped, withdrawing again before she could finish, and she lay gasping and shivering, every nerve now tingling. She made a noise of frustration and swore at him, getting another dark chuckle and a spank in return. This was going to make her crazy.

The bed shifted and she felt his presence over her as much as his weight framing her. Again he let her stew in anticipation before teasing her expertly, reading her body like a book and playing it like a master musician. Every time she approached orgasm he stopped, until she was an enraged, desperate, dripping wreck.

“Now, you can beg,” he growled in her ear. 

“Fuck me, Reyes, please, I need this…!”

He _hmmm_ ed. “You'll have to do better than that.” So she tried, becoming increasingly eloquent and descriptive in what she wanted from him as he idly kept the fire burning in her with licks and caresses and pinches and nips in strategic places, until he turned her to her side. She flinched, wondering what she'd said wrong to earn a spank, but he only untied her ankles and neck from her wrists. The relief was almost painful, distracting her as he positioned her on her knees, ass in the air. 

After all the stimulation he'd subjected her to, the gentle kiss he planted on her lower lips made her moan. The feeling of him pushing into her, the sensation that she'd been wanting with every denied orgasm, made her scream his name. With every stroke she dissolved a little further until his hands at her hips was the only thing keeping her upright.

When she came he let her collapse, moving above her for the last few thrusts it took him to finish. 

Ryder lay quivering while he carefully finished untying her and removed her blindfold. She whimpered as the bindings loosed and limbs kept unnaturally pinioned were freed. His eyes, when she caught them, were no longer those of the Charlatan. “Shhh sh sh, Ryder, are you okay?”

She considered that a moment. Other than a little pins-and-needles and residual oversensitivity she felt good, better than good even. It was as if all of the building frustrations over dealing with Nexus leadership, building diplomatic relations with the angara, making worlds viable, managing her crew, and finding homes for the Arks’ sleepers had been transmuted into sexual frustration and spectacularly relieved. It seemed whatever had had a hold on him had been released as well as he gathered her to him and gently massaged her wrists. She nodded into his chest, finding herself suddenly exhausted by the purged emotion and frustration as much as the physical demands of the Charlatan's sex games. “Tired. Everything's...buzzing,” she slurred.

“Sleep, _amor_. I'll keep watch.”

She tumbled down into the depths, letting sleep take her as he gently rubbed her back.

***

When she woke the next morning she was alone in the bed. She could hear Reyes speaking to someone in the other room, a vidcon from the dancing light and tinny sound of the other voice. _Charlatan business, or smuggling?_ she wondered. Listening a bit closer brought her the charming tones of Reyes, rather than the commands of the Charlatan. She eased gingerly off the bed and slipped into the main room, careful to stay to the edges and out of the camera's view. He glanced at her almost too quickly to see, keeping his face neutral for whomever was on the other side, and quickly wrapped things up as Ryder eased herself down onto the couch, wincing slightly. _SAM must still be in privacy mode...oooh, that's sore._

“You're awake,” he said, calmly enough, but it wasn't like him to state the obvious. He was worried about something. She fished. “Don't worry, I didn't hear anything.”

He shrugged it off. “Minor smuggling deal.” Even knowing what he did for a day job, she was always slightly taken aback at how easily he admitted what he did when not the Charlatan. 

He settled on the couch as well, allowing a small amount of space between them that she closed without thinking about it, snuggling in under his arm. She felt his shoulders drop slightly and some tension ease. “You're not mad at me?” He asked quietly.

She wondered what his face looked like but was too comfortable to look. He was warm and firm, and the sound of his heartbeat was soothing. “What have you been doing that I should be mad at you? The smuggling? I know how you make your credits, Reyes.”

He relaxed further, arms coming around her. She could feel him trying to think of what to say in the little fidgets he made with her hair, and was touched that he seemed to be making an effort to discuss something that concerned him about their relationship even as she wondered what it could be. It was a big step from not showing her anything but flirtation and sex, and she was proud of him. Proud of herself, too, for having the patience to create a space that he felt safe enough to express himself in. Patience was not her strong point. 

Finally he said quietly, “You're not mad about me staying the Charlatan and tying you up?”

She shook her head, breathing in the scent of him. She felt closer than ever to Reyes just now, at peace with who they both were. He was a shady bastard when it came to Charlatan business, there was no getting around that, but she loved him. “I asked you to be honest about the big things. What you showed me about yourself last night was a pretty big thing. You weren't shady about it, didn't force me into it or lie about it, and made sure I knew what I was getting into. I enjoyed it and feel like it was good for both of us. Will I have the physical and emotional bandwidth to do something that intense all the time? No. But I'd like to think we could talk to each other about our needs.”

He huffed a huge sigh and squeezed her tightly enough to get a grunt out of her. “How did I get so lucky with you?” he whispered, seeming to be asking himself more than her. Ryder smiled, completely content with the world for this little space in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! So yes, I totally headcanon a secret dungeon in Tartarus ha. I mean, look at the place...
> 
> No smut in the next chapter (sorry, fellow smut lovers) which will be another from Ryder's POV.


	5. Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder is confronted with her conflicting interests, and makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut today, folks.

Ryder left her conversation with Addison feeling like she'd been slapped in the face. _There are concerns about my connections on Kadara?_ For once she was glad for the woman's blunt-spoken nature.

She’d known that there would be some pushback about the arrangement she'd come to with Reyes regarding the settlement of Kadara, had hoped it would be lessened by the fact that it was publicly announced and upheld by Keema rather than the Charlatan, but she never truly expected that she'd be at risk of losing political clout over it. 

No, that wasn't accurate. She hadn't _cared_ , because up until now she hadn't had a use for political influence. Her job was to explore, play nice with the angara, and eliminate the kett. Now that she and Reyes were shadow partners in the management of Kadara, she had more use for - and need of - political favors.

Had she made the wrong choice? Not in choosing Reyes to live and Sloane to die - Sloane would have been a disaster for Ditaeon - but in continuing her relationship with the roguish exile? She'd been prepared to kill him to avoid being compromised by someone who would use her for his own ends, but he'd convinced her that he did what he did for the good of Kadara, which was what she wanted, too. And by that time she'd already fallen in love with the bastard, seduced as much by his willingness to accept and believe in her as she was by their insane chemistry.

While she never knowingly shared confidential intel with him, the fact remained that she was sleeping with Reyes. In love with him. Had altered the Tempest’s flight schedule so that she was resupplying on Kadara rather than the Nexus in order to spend more time with him. Ostensibly that was to avoid depleting the resources of the struggling station, but she knew how it would look if the truth of their relationship got out: she'd be branded an irresponsible fool at best - if they never found out about the Charlatan - and a traitor at worst if they did. Both would likely result in her being stripped of Pathfinder status. She hadn't wanted to be Pathfinder, but now that she was, she appreciated the freedom, respect, and access to resources that came with the role.

Ryder stopped in the middle of a walkway, struck cold by the realization that even if she wasn't a criminal, she really was no better than Reyes. He hadn't wanted to be the Charlatan, either. Had felt the role forced on him by circumstance, grew into it, and now accepted it and took advantage of all it offered. Just like her. Had he always been a smuggler? She'd never asked about his life before Andromeda. She was starting to think she should, especially if there was going to be a long-term future with him someday.

“Is everything alright, Pathfinder?”

She turned and smiled at the salarian, a botanist if she remembered correctly. “Yes, of course. Remembered something on my to-do list.” The salarian nodded and Ryder started walking again.

It wasn't until that moment that she'd recognized the sense of moral superiority she'd felt over Reyes. She was a troublemaker, enough so that part of coming to Andromeda had been to escape some sticky situations brewing in the Milky Way, but she'd never done anything really criminal or immoral. Bent the rules, even broke a few, but never flouted them with complete disregard.

Reyes made it tempting, though. It would be so easy to transform Kadara from a pariah colony of undesirables to the shining jewel of the Initiative's settlement efforts. Easy to build on the existing spaceport, good angaran relations, and established infrastructure to ensure Kadara became the center of trade in Andromeda, especially given her connections. A new Illium even, one day in the future.

It would also be easy to use her status as Pathfinder to get extra supplies for Ditaeon, supplies that any of the outposts could use but that she could prioritize for Kadara...where Reyes ruled behind the scenes as de facto king and treated her as his queen.

Shit. 

She headed to Kesh next, to get a second opinion from a very different point of view. After their usual small talk, Ryder asked, “So, have you heard anything interesting about the outposts I should know about?”

Kesh tilted her head, thinking. “Rumors of something big out in the dunes on Elaaden, maybe another of those Remnant machines you took down on Kadara. Speaking of Kadara, Addison and Tann have been bitching about you doing your supply runs there now. Kandros doesn't give a shit; he figures you're the reason the exiles have been so compliant lately, but watch out for the other two, kid.”

Ryder nodded solemnly, pleased that she'd taken the time to build a friendship with Drack’s granddaughter. “And your thoughts?” 

Kesh shrugged, the human gesture rippling over her hump. “What you do is your business. Besides, if you can bring the exiles back into the fold, maybe you can do the same for the krogan.” The Superintendent's sharp reptilian eyes held Ryder's knowingly, and Ryder got the hint. “If it can be done, I'll do it,” she promised her friend, nodding. She would have done it anyway, having always sympathized with the krogans, but now it was business. She made a mental note to head back to Elaaden as soon as they were finished on the station. They discussed a few needs for the Nexus, and then Ryder excused herself.

After visiting Kesh her feet took her back to the Tempest and straight to her quarters. “SAM, what is the resource allocation split of supplies going from the Nexus to the colonies on my orders?”

“A moment, please.”

She started to pace in the seconds it took him to calculate. “Approximately 40% to Eos, 36% to Voeld, and 24% to Kadara, Pathfinder.” 

Ryder thought for a moment. “Is that roughly proportional given the timelines for settlement?”

“Yes, Pathfinder.”

She sighed in relief. Her bias for Reyes hadn't shown up in the numbers yet. “SAM, if that number ever begins to skew disproportionately towards Kadara, I want you to flag me with a warning. Give it a 3% margin of error.” That should help her catch herself if she lost her way. She just hoped that if she did she would still be in the mindset of self-correction, rather than self-preservation.

“Done, Pathfinder.”

“And SAM - that's a private directive. Encrypt it so that if something happens to me, nobody poking around will discover it.” She couldn't risk exposing Reyes if she was captured or killed, or if SAM was somehow hacked. Not while they were still on the same side.

***

She was distracted on her nightly call with Reyes later, another activity that was kept encrypted and secret. Was that wrong? Was she protecting him for the right reasons? Or was she allowing him to pull her into his shadows?

“Laz,” Reyes drawled. She snapped to attention. He only called her by her first name when he was being serious; they both preferred her last name to her given name, Lazuli, or her second name, Sara. 

“Sorry, I've had a lot on my mind today.”

He studied her for a moment. “Anything I can help with?” She heard the unspoken triple layers to the question. Was it a personal concern for her lover Reyes, a professional query for Vidal, her information broker, or something serious for the Charlatan? She chewed on her lip, deciding how to tell him about her conversations with Addison and Kesh...and how much. 

When she looked up again, his eyes had sharpened, hardened. Shit. He was edging towards the Charlatan. She was intelligent and capable and she knew it, but he was 8 years her senior and seemed to have spent all of his additional time alive navigating the convoluted games of dangerous people. He could read her as easily as he read navigation charts, and something she'd done had tipped him off that there was information she didn't exactly want to share.

With a sigh, Ryder decided to tell him the truth. It wasn't confidential, the only risk of harm was to herself if he decided she was a danger to Kadara, and if she expected him not to hide big things from her she needed to be willing to reciprocate. “There are concerns on the Nexus about my...Kadaran connections.”

If she'd thought that would settle him, she was dead wrong. When he spoke next, it was in the flat, calculating tones of the Charlatan. “Concerns? Like what?”

She shifted in her chair, then straightened. She was the Pathfinder, his equal, not one of his lackeys. “Nothing specific, and there were no names named as targets for that concern, but it seems my supply runs to the port aren't going over well.”

“Are you or I in danger?” he asked neutrally.

She shook her head. “I don't think so. I'll need to lay low for a while and avoid making too much trouble, but I won't break my schedule or it'll look suspicious.” 

The Charlatan nodded, leaning back in his chair. His hard, handsome face was completely blank as he thought. 

“This is the first I've heard of this. I'm sending an agent to the Nexus.” 

“Reyes, don't ask me to help with this.” she asked him. He smiled at the hint of pleading in her voice. “Don't worry, Pathfinder. You've done your part already. I only told you because you tend to consider anything touching the Nexus as ‘big stuff’.”

She winced, and the Charlatan pounced. “You have concerns as well?”

“I just realized I've made myself complicit and I can't even be mad because you've done what I made you promise to do.”

He cocked his head at her, smirking. “So you have. Don't worry, I won't take advantage of it.”

Ryder closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. This was exactly why she'd nearly killed him when she learned of his secret identity. As much as she loved him, he was an exile, a king of exiles, and the conflicts of interest between the exiles and the Nexus were bound to force her to choose a side one day. Where would she fall?

Remembering Tann’s oily political maneuvering and Addison’s bald ambition, she realized the Nexus leaders were really no different from the exiles. They too had killed, trying to regain control in the uprising. They too schemed for power, influence, resources. They'd simply had the ability to set themselves on the right side of the law in Heleus, declaring those who wanted to follow another path outlaws and rebels, and exiling them to scratch a living on planets they knew to be hostile. And all those who had awakened or arrived afterwards had been fed - and bought into - the narrative of the exiles’ wholesale criminality. 

While the Charlatan’s methods were usually illegal, Ryder genuinely believed his motives took their cues from the needs of Kadara. She couldn't say the same of Tann. And just as everyone on the Nexus wasn't automatically good by virtue of being there, everyone on Kadara and Elaaden wasn't automatically bad. 

She looked up at the Charlatan, feeling herself at the precipice of a very slippery slope. _I need to set my boundaries carefully. I need to decide what falls within my own moral code, when the ends justify the means, or I'll be used and exiled when I'm no longer needed by the Nexus - or consumed by the Charlatan and absorbed into the Collective._ Above all else, Ryder wanted to maintain her freedom and independence. 

“You've thought of something,” the Charlatan prompted. “Something big.” 

Ryder nodded slowly, still looking at him. “We'll discuss it the next time I'm on Kadara.” 

“Pathfinder…”

She lifted her chin, refusing to budge. “ _Reyes_ ,” she emphasized, reluctant to address him as the Charlatan in case someone had bugged her somehow.

The Charlatan started, blinked, and it was Reyes on the vid screen again. Had he not realized he'd edged over until she named him? 

“Are you okay, at least?” he asked. Ryder sighed. He was getting more comfortable with showing her the Charlatan and seemed to come back to himself more easily as well. Sometimes. Usually more the former. Either way, she felt like she was getting a better idea of the real man, the compilation of his various facets. A fascinating picture was coming together, one she couldn't help but be intrigued by and attracted to.

“I miss you,” she admitted. “And Kadara. The Nexus hasn't been ‘home’ for awhile, and that became clearer today.” She hesitated, then went on more quietly. “Nowhere ever felt like home, until now.”

His smile would have lit Tartarus as bright as day. He really was a handsome man, and her heart skipped a beat to see that expression of pure happiness on his face. “I'm glad to hear you say that, _amor_. I'm working on a little something for you.”

“You what? What is it?”

He laughed and shook his head. “You'll find out when it's ready.”

She snorted. The man would always keep something secret if he thought he could get away with it. But after the day's revelations she had a secret of her own now: if forced to choose, she would join him in exile rather than stay with the Initiative. 

Alec Ryder's dream had died with him, and the Initiative lost its way with the death of Jien Garson. Alec had made her Pathfinder and she would play her part for as long as she could, partly because it was the right thing to do and partly because she was enjoying continually proving her doubters wrong, actually getting shit done and achieving things that helped people. But her father's dreams did not have to be hers. The Nexus leadership, with the exception of Kesh, was revealing itself to be largely ineffective and so concerned with political battles that they were losing sight of the big picture. She knew from experience that the Charlatan would use her, and was under no illusions about her lover's criminal activities, but she could learn from him. She would be a queen in her own right, prepared for the day when she was of more trouble than use to the Nexus leaders, ready to strike out on her own should the Charlatan fail her as well. 

If that meant staying true to herself and ending up an exile, so be it...but she'd need to work on a plan to take SAM with her.


	6. Fighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes wasn't always top dog. He had to learn how to fight first - and woe to those who try him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Brief mentions of domestic abuse in the first and third paragraphs as part of Reyes' backstory.

The first time Reyes got in a fight, he'd had his ass handed to him. He'd been 13 years old, growing up in one of the rougher _barrios_ in Valparaíso, Chile, and his smart mouth had talked him straight into a beating by an older, bigger boy. When he got home, bleeding from a split lip and a broken nose, barely able to see out of a blackened right eye, his father - a man always free with his hands, especially when he'd been drinking - had thrashed him for being both weak and stupid. As he lay battered on the kitchen floor, he promised himself that no one would get the upper hand on him again. He was lucky his older sister came home that night and cared for him; he still remembered above anything else the sharp grinding pain of her carefully setting his nose so that it wouldn’t heal crookedly and ruin his pretty face.

Reyes became a quieter boy. Watching, always watching. Cataloging weaknesses, collecting secrets. A few months later, the boy who had beaten Reyes was turned on and attacked by his gang. He didn't survive. No-one quite seemed to know how they'd found out their compatriot had been skimming an extra cut of drug money, but a few people looked at Reyes and wondered.

So he learned to blend in, be unseen, or use his silver tongue to charm rather than taunt. He didn't avoid being beaten again, either by bullies or his father, but he improved in finding indirect ways to take revenge, and take it more quickly, more viciously.

When he hit his growth spurt, he was blessed with both height and athleticism. He started training himself, doing exercises to build his strength, running to improve his stamina. Joined a boxing club to learn how to defend himself properly. Not only himself but also the younger, smaller children who found themselves the targets of bullies, as he had been, although he always preferred to use his intelligence to find an indirect solution like blackmail over a direct confrontation that could get him ganged up on and beaten senseless yet again. Eventually, he collected a following, not large or organized enough to be called a gang, but a loose collaboration of street kids who were happy to exchange secrets for protection or delayed revenge. By the time he was 17, Reyes was wise beyond his years in the ways of manipulating people, though far from a master.

Right before graduating the rumors about him attracted the attention of a military recruiter who offered him a way out of the _barrio_ and a chance to learn how to fight for real. Stand for something bigger. Be someone. It was inspiring, so Reyes joined the Systems Alliance and never saw Cartagena again.

He learned many skills during his time with the Alliance: fighting, shooting, flying, strategy, leadership. Perhaps he could have become someone, an officer or trainer, but he quickly grew disillusioned with the military and left when his contract expired. One thing led to another and he fell in with some unsavory people, from whom he learned a whole new skillset: hacking, munitions, infiltration, smuggling, the finer points of manipulation and blackmail. Skills that served him well when he needed to become the Charlatan to protect those weaker than himself once again.

Nearly 650 years and 2.5 million light years distant from his military service, Reyes Vidal looked back on his early years and had a feeling he was going to need to draw on the fighting skills he'd learned so long ago. He still tried to avoid direct confrontations, but he wasn't a little boy anymore and the person who tested him in a fight would be on the receiving end of a world of pain.

He was chatting with a Collective recruiter in Kralla’s Song, playing his role as information broker and Collective sympathizer, when harsh words spoken with venom caught his attention from across the bar.

“That fucking Pathfinder is gonna pay for what she did on H-047c. Next time she's in port, she's gonna pay.”

The next time Ryder was due in port was tomorrow. Splitting his attention from his ongoing conversation was dangerous, but Reyes tried to recall what Ryder had done on H-047c that might draw the ire of a turian on Kadara. _Ah_. She'd shut down a plot to blow up the Nexus and secured enough helium-3 to power the Initiative for a century, at least. Shame he hadn't won her over by that point, but he doubted she'd have given him a cut anyway. Then, at least. She was working out nicely as a business contact, and even better as his woman. He'd never had such a satisfying partnership. Perhaps a contract could be negotiated later. He smirked slightly at the idea of how he'd like to _negotiate_ with her, reining himself in before the fantasy distracted him too much. 

The disgruntled merc kept talking in lower tones when his drinking buddies shushed him, and Reyes excused himself to get another whiskey. He leaned on the bar near the turian's table as he waited for Umi’s attention and casually took note of who else was present, their general dispositions. Two humans, a man and a woman, and an asari. The asari looked slightly uncomfortable - perhaps because the Pathfinder had recently rescued the Leusinia? - but the two humans were almost equally as incensed. 

“She killed my brother. Burned him alive,” the man growled. “Murdering Nexus scum,” the woman agreed.

 _As if you haven't killed your fair share, amigos_ , Reyes thought. Burning alive was definitely Ryder's MO, though. The woman had an unhealthy attachment to her flamethrower, especially where armor was involved. It had surprised him once, made him think her unbalanced until he realized that she took no pleasure in it. Her logical mind had simply come to the conclusion that it was the most efficient way for a tech-heavy Sentinel profile like hers to eliminate armored foes. Efficiency won out every time with her.

The asari bartender approached. “The usual please, Umi.” The asari splashed a healthy pour of whiskey in a cup and slid it across. 

“Hey!”

Reyes ignored the dual-toned shout, feigning a lack of interest even though he knew the turian was probably addressing him. Enough people in Kralla's had seen him talking to the Pathfinder for him to be tagged as an associate but he wanted to be sure. He took a sip of his drink, waiting. 

A rough hand on his shoulder spun him around, and he pretended to stumble, splashing the alcohol in the turian's eyes. “What the hell? You have a reason for making me spill my drink?” he snarled. 

“Take it outside! Get the fuck outta here, all of you! Whoever lives, pays!” Umi shouted as she brandished her knife.

“After you,” Reyes invited with cold civility. With glares all around, the humans ushered their still-blinking turian friend out. The asari remained seated where she was, clearly wanting no part of whatever was going on. No sooner had the group stepped foot outside the bar than the man took a swing at Reyes, who sidestepped it neatly. “What the fuck did I do to you?” he asked, dodging another punch. 

“You sell information to that bitch of a Pathfinder,” the man said, spitting. Reyes exploded forward and landed a solid strike to his jaw, stunning him and knocking him down. He was glad he was wearing gloves or that would have hurt a hell of a lot more.

“I sell information to anyone with the credits to pay. Have something you want to buy?” Reyes said with a disarming smile, squaring himself for an attack by the human woman. The turian, still struggling with his vision, pushed her aside to come at Reyes. _Mistake,_ he thought, darting forward and under his reach to hook him low on the leg with his foot and use the leverage to topple the top-heavy thug with a shove. Spinning, he blocked the woman's incoming fist and rocked her back with a kick in the middle, planted that foot on the downstep to swing into another kick to the head of the rising man with his other foot, and squared up to the turian again. The bright Kadaran sun gleamed on the edge of a large blade. 

“You don't want to do that, friend,” Reyes warned in a low voice. 

“I really do. And I'm not friends with anyone who deals with the Nexus!” spat his opponent.

Reyes shrugged. “Your loss,” he said as he dipped and smoothly pulled his own knife from his boot. The pistol would draw too much attention. 

The turian was fast, and good with a blade, but Reyes was better. He lost himself in their dance, blocking, stabbing, slashing. And then… _There_ , as he spun behind his opponent and slid his blade home in the soft spot under the turian's jaw.

Turning to the woman hunched protectively over her unconscious associate, he leveled the knife at her face. “You also want to try? Or you want to take your remaining friend and go?” 

She raised her hands, eyeing the drops of blue blood falling from the blade. “They were just upset,” she explained breathily. “Lost a lot of creds when the Pathfinder destroyed those bases on H-047c.” 

“Not my problem. I'm not interested in your grievances, only the credits that come _my_ way. Now get lost.” 

Slinging her friend over a shoulder, the scruffy woman made her getaway. 

Reyes sighed, toeing the turian as he called Keema. “Vidal,” she answered immediately. “What's this I hear about a fight and a dead mercenary outside Kralla's?”

Reyes pinched the bridge of his nose. Word traveled fast even when you didn't shoot somebody. “Some fools decided that since I allegedly sold information to the Pathfinder once or twice that I should be the target of their vendetta against her. I had to persuade them of their error. Physically.” 

She sighed. “We'll discuss this later. I'll send a cleanup crew. Pay your tab with Umi or I'll have to hear about that as well.” She closed the channel before he could frame a retort. 

***

Keema laid into him that evening about the necessity of killing in broad daylight outside of the port’s busiest venue. He heard her out, took a sip of his whiskey, and let the Charlatan come to the fore. She sat up a little straighter, realizing that she was no longer dealing with her friend, but with her boss. 

“First of all, there are a dozen witnesses at the bar who will tell you they came at me first. Second, nobody threatens the Pathfinder and goes unpunished if I find out about it,” he said coldly. From anyone else, it would have sounded a grandiose and foolish ultimatum. From the Charlatan, it sounded like the death sentence it was. Keema bristled and he smiled, welcoming her defiance. His blood was still singing with his triumph and he wanted more. She hesitated.

“Is your relationship with Ryder going to be a problem?” she asked, more carefully than she might have before he smiled. 

He leaned forward, commanding her complete attention. “My relationship with her is my business. The importance of her continuing role in my long-term plans for Kadara is what should concern you.”

Keema held his gaze a moment longer before dropping her eyes to her own whiskey. “I'll spread the word.”

“Don't. I don't need people asking questions. Or holding their tongues and plotting in secret. Just stay publicly neutral and tell me directly if you hear anything.” She nodded, and they moved on to other topics. 

Ryder would probably be pissed when she heard he'd essentially killed someone for the crime of making an unconfirmed threat against her, but aside from the fact that the turian had come at him first, he would always fight for his people. For his woman, he'd fight to the death. Preferably that of his adversary.

***

He heard Ryder coming. Normally fairly quiet in her steps - if not so quiet as he - when she was mad she stomped like a drunk krogan. From the sound of it she was in full armor. _This should be fun,_ he thought, planning how to deflect her. Skin would help. He shrugged out of his jacket and gloves, leaving him in a black t-shirt that showed the curves of his biceps and a hint of his collarbone.

The Tempest had touched down an hour ago, giving her plenty of time to check in with Keema as the official head of Kadara Port before dropping in to see him on her way out to Ditaeon. Keema had almost certainly told Ryder about yesterday's events, both because she was an incurable busybody and to get back at him for pulling rank on her. 

He arranged himself in the careless sprawl she seemed to find irresistible just as she stormed in, ordering her squad to wait outside before the door shut behind her.

“Reyes, why the fuck -” She pulled up short when she saw him, blue hair swinging with the momentum. Her aquamarine eyes darted over him and her lips parted slightly. Even angry, she wanted him enough to be distracted. Good. Those two weeks apart had to be good for something.

“ _Hola, mi amor, te extrañe. ¿Que tal?_ ” he purred, pitching his voice low. When she'd discovered he sometimes spoke to her in Spanish, she'd switched that language off on her translator. Said she enjoyed it more hearing the words as they were meant to be heard, which was good for him because it almost never failed to make her wet.

Sure enough, she squirmed slightly before taking a deep breath and making her face stern. “Don't think you can charm your way out of this discussion.”

He stood and stretched with arms overhead, showing off the limber strength of his body before slowly striding to her with a smile, thumbs hooked through his belt. She swallowed, gaze darting down to his crotch, as he'd intended with that hand placement. “My eyes are up here,” he whispered into her ear, snaking quick fingers through her hair to pull her head back for a kiss. She made a small noise and melted into him.

“I missed you,” she admitted when he released her.

“I see that,” he smirked. 

Her brows pulled together in a frown as she visibly chased after the thought she'd walked in with. “But why are you killing people in port? I've got enough to defend to Nexus leadership without my _information broker_ knifing people in a bar fight!” 

Reyes shrugged, massaging the base of her skull just to be touching her. “They threatened you.”

She blinked. “Keema didn't mention that part.” 

_Good girl, Keema_. Reyes kissed her neck, under her ear. “Then one of them pulled a knife on me for being your associate.”

She pulled back to look at him. “Are you in danger?”

He shook his head and nibbled her earlobe. “No. The instigator is dead and I have the other three under surveillance.” He planted small kisses along her neck, breathing in her amber and orange flower scent.

She huffed a sigh, eyes closed as she basked in his attentions. “I don't like you killing for my sake.”

It was his turn to pull back and look at her. “I learned a long time ago that if someone starts a fight with me, I have to finish it decisively. And you're my woman. Protecting you is my responsibility, even though I know you'll insist on making it difficult,” he said seriously. 

She cupped his cheek, giving him an adoring look he was still getting used to seeing directed at him. “Just don't make a habit of getting into bar fights for everything people say about me, okay? I piss off a whole lot of people for one reason or another. Sometimes they're just blowing off steam, and I've handled all comers so far.”

She quickly kissed him again before stepping back. “I need to go check on Ditaeon and run an errand but I'll be back for you later, _señor_. We're going to have some fun tonight.”

Reyes grasped the front of her chestplate and pulled her back to him, kissing her soundly. “ _Now_ you can go.” She stuck her tongue out at him and left with much quieter steps than when she'd arrived, a small smile on her face. Reyes winked when she looked back, and then she was gone.

He threw himself back on the couch and smirked in satisfaction. _There's more than one way to win a fight, and I always fight dirty._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realized that while I started this intending it to be a collection of one-shots and drabbles, it's turned into an actual fic. Hope it's working. The next chapters may come slower as I re-think some of the outline.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos, comments, and bookmarks! Makes me work that much harder on my writing. Love you guys for taking the time.


	7. Gamblers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder invites Reyes to play some poker on the Tempest, but what is she _really_ playing at?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut is back!

It was approaching late afternoon when Reyes got a report of Ryder’s golden tank returning from the badlands. Shortly thereafter his omnitool trilled with her tone. “Vidal!” she shouted over the radio, and Reyes knew she had crew other than Drack or Vetra with her. “Come up to the Tempest. We're playing high stakes poker. I beat Gil already and need a bigger challenge to make it worthwhile.” 

“You beat Gil?” came Peebee’s incredulous voice from the background. Reyes considered while the crew bantered. He preferred to have Ryder to himself on her visits, but he'd only been on the Tempest once before and a poker game would provide intelligence opportunities under the guise of making small talk. Ryder must be feeling generous; it wasn't as if he'd been hiding the Charlatan from her lately and she knew he was a glutton for information. He wondered what he'd done to earn the invitation...or what she was planning to do that she wanted his favor for later.

“What do you say, Vidal?”

“You better say yes, smuggler!” shouted Peebee. “I want to meet Ryder's boytoy properly.”

“Peebee!” snapped Ryder. Reyes couldn't help but laugh at her scandalized tone. She was such a deliciously wild thing in bed that it was funny to see her so prudish in front of her crew.

“What? You brought him onto the ship to fuck that one time -”

“Are you coming or not?” Ryder interrupted, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Wouldn't miss it, _amor_. I'll be up by the time you get that shiny monstrosity loaded back into the ship.”

“Ooooh, he called you ‘love’, is it serious Ryder?”

“Peebee, I swear to your goddess that I will eject your escape pod straight into the Scourge while you are sleeping if you don't _shut the fuck up_!”

Chuckling, Reyes closed the channel. He wasn't sure he'd trust the asari to keep her mouth shut about his being the Charlatan, but her easy banter had included Reyes and made him feel like he was part of something. An equal, one of the gang, not just the shadowy spider at the center of a wide-flung web. He was usually careful not to make too many associations outside of business, but it felt...good. He would try to be just Reyes tonight. Try to enjoy being part of a group, as much as they'd let him. He knew Vetra and Drack were wary of him still, having been there when he revealed himself to Sloane. Cora and Jaal seemed to dislike Kadara in general and himself in particular, especially Cora, and his knowledge of Liam and the Tempest’s non-combat crew was limited to what was in the official records. A gem of an opportunity indeed...but what was Ryder up to?

***

The boarding ramp was shut when he approached, but it opened as he got close. “Welcome aboard, Mr Vidal. It is good to see you again,” Ryder's AI greeted him.

“Thank you, SAM. How have you been?”

The AI didn't respond for a second. Perhaps it wasn't asked all that often, but it couldn't hurt to be cordial with your lover's synthetic counterpart - particularly since it was his biggest ally on the ship. “I have been learning much about organic life and the questions driving sentient beings,” SAM replied. 

“Excellent. Be sure to tell me if you figure out the meaning of life. I can probably sell that to someone.” 

“I shall, Mr Vidal. The Pathfinder and crew are awaiting you in the garage.”

“Thanks, SAM. Let me know if she needs anything.”

“Yes, Mr Vidal.”

Footsteps approached. _Ryder_ , he identified the first set, assuming the lighter, bouncier second set to be Peebee. He was correct on both counts, and felt his heart jump at the way Ryder smiled when she saw him.

“Reyes,” she breathed, embracing him...only to make a startled yelp as he swung her backward and low, bending over her to kiss her deeply. Ryder made a satisfying _mmmm_ sound and Peebee an excited squeal of delight, drawing the attention of whoever else was in the garage. They had an audience by the time he swung her back up. She blushed furiously as she introduced him. “People, you probably already know this reprobate, Reyes Vidal. Jaal, you might have heard of him as Shena. Reyes, I think you've met Peebee, Drack, and Vetra. The rest are Gil, Lexi, Suvi, Kallo, Cora, Liam, and Jaal. Play nice.”

“You are Shena?” Jaal asked in what Reyes recognized as deep confusion. “I thought you were angaran.”

Reyes smirked. “I get that a lot.”

“And you are...courting the Pathfinder?”

Reyes coughed modestly. “I have that honor,” he said carefully, glancing at Ryder to gauge her reaction. She was blushing again, the tinge of red visible even under her darker skin tone, but she raised her chin in a challenge as she slid an arm around his waist. His heart thundered in his chest as he dropped his arm around her shoulder, presenting a unified front. She was publicly claiming him as her man, allowing him to claim her. Even if it was only to her crew, it was a step he'd been worried she wouldn't take after that call about concerns on the Nexus. _What game are you playing, little leopard?_ he wondered.

Jaal seemed to come to a conclusion. “Hmm. Well. You have done many good services for the Resistance, so perhaps you are not as bad a sort as I first thought.”

Reyes nodded his thanks seriously, knowing how slow angara were to trust. Ryder clapped her hands. “Alright, enough personal questions. You wanna chat, do it at the poker table.” 

An impromptu gambling area had been arranged, with a collapsable table set up on the lower port side of the bay, near the lift. Six of the crew sat down to play, with Reyes and Ryder making eight. Reyes eyed the evening's opponents: Gil, Lexi, Peebee, Vetra, Liam, and Cora, with Suvi serving as the dealer and the rest of the crew settling in on crates or a horrendous-looking couch to watch. 

As she was sitting down beside him he noticed Ryder glance up and to the left briefly, as she did when listening to SAM, before muttering, “Not now. Later.” The rest of the crew were distracted with shit-talking and he suppressed his grin, suspecting he'd just learned how she'd beaten Gil. Good to know she wasn't above playing dirty _before_ he started betting against her.

He shrugged out of his jacket, making the movement slightly slower and more sensual than it needed to be, noting which eyes watched him while pretending to examine the garage. Ryder’s, of course. Gil, with open admiration. Cora, though she glanced away quickly, reddening, and Lexi. Peebee openly whooped. “Alright, Vidal, take it off!” Ryder grinned. Reyes just smiled and kissed her on the cheek, pleased to know who he could manipulate with sex.

“Alright, you lot, let’s get going,” Suvi said, rolling her eyes as she shuffled the deck. That one had eyes for Ryder, as did Liam, and Reyes made a mental note in case he needed to use - or watch out for - jealousy. 

Ryder wasn't bad, he noted as the first few hands were played. A little too reckless, and prone to bullying her way out of bad hands, but not bad. Peebee was surprisingly good, the bubbly exuberance he'd seen earlier locked down and hidden behind hard eyes. Lexi, Liam and Cora were middling at best and Vetra benefited from not having the usual tells that a human might. But Gil was clearly the one to beat.

As the game wore on Reyes subtly turned on the charm, winning the observing salarian pilot over with tales of precision flying, Jaal with toasts to the Resistance, Liam with stories of drunken nights out, and Lexi by doting on Ryder between hands. Vetra and Drack remained steadfastly neutral, but he had them. They knew his secret, and also knew how easily he could crush them. 

He played the room as much as he played his hands, enjoying both games. Ryder’s small grin said she knew what he was doing, and approved. _Whatever she’s up to tonight, I’m playing my part._ It thrilled him to work alongside her, even not knowing what the rules or stakes or reasons were. 

The table slowly emptied. Lexi was the first one out, falling to a bluff from Gil. Cora and Liam followed, then Vetra. Reyes himself knocked Ryder out, and she swatted at him when his pocket kings beat her pocket queens in a full house. _A sign?_ he wondered. 

In the end, it was Reyes facing off against Gil. Ryder set a fresh whiskey at his elbow and proceeded to massage his shoulders. _I could get used to this,_ he thought as he relaxed into her hands and enjoyed Gil’s hot eyes on them. 

After four hands, he noticed something. Ryder’s massaging fingers squeezed either on the turn or the river before Gil played a fantastic hand, stroked up and down his back on the hands when Gil had nothing, and went still when he had a middling hand. _Is she...ooooh, she is. I love you, you naughty little minx._ Glancing around, he saw the rest of the crew was more occupied with side games, drinking, or quiet discussions than with the end of this game.

Guided by her signals, playing most but not all of them to avoid suspicion, Reyes beat Gil. He flirted enough that the man wasn’t even mad, just shook his head and complained about losing first to the Pathfinder, then to her lover. Reyes accepted the credit transfer with his omnitool, then had a better idea. “ _Amor_ , shall we put this behind the bar at Kralla’s for everyone to enjoy?” Whoops and shouts accompanied the suggestion. Even Cora seemed to perk up.

“Hot _and_ generous. What a catch, Ryder,” Gil said admiringly. Ryder laughed. “Fine, but do it tonight. I’ll stay on board.” Everyone laughed knowingly, and Ryder rolled her eyes, shouting to be heard. “And Gil, you’re on that project tomorrow, so you’d better not be too hungover. Dismissed.” Reyes transferred most of the credits with a note to Umi as the Tempest crew left in loud good cheer. Only Jaal opted to stay aboard the Tempest, seeming to prefer avoiding the other angara in port. 

“Well played, smuggler,” Ryder smirked when they were alone in her quarters. Reyes gathered her in his arms. “I think I had a little help from SAM.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Ryder replied, pushing him with her body toward the bed and straddling his hips when he sat. She tugged his shirt up and over his head, kissing his bare chest and flicking her tongue at a nipple.

“Mmm...as nice as this is, you owe me a few explanations.”

Ryder nipped his throat and unbuckled his belt. “Like…?”

He caught her hands, not wanting to be distracted until he had answers. “Your moment of reckoning on the Nexus last week. Your unexpected gift of intel, inviting me onto the Tempest for a poker game. Declaring me your partner to your assembled crew.”

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder before sliding off and throwing herself onto her back. He propped himself on an elbow alongside her, stroking an errant strand of hair out of her face while she collected her thoughts. 

“I owe you an apology,” she said suddenly. He said nothing, only cocking an eyebrow. It was rare for him to get an apology from anyone, and he couldn’t fathom why Ryder would feel she owed him one. “All your talk about how I make you a better man...I guess I got the idea that _I_ was somehow better. Than you. But I’m not,” she rushed on as his other eyebrow joined the first in surprise. “I cheat at poker. And I’m...I didn’t even want to be Pathfinder, but now I am, and I’m taking advantage of it. The resources, the favors, the status. I’m taking advantage of it, and I’m telling myself it’s okay because I’m getting things done and _helping people_. But...that’s really all you’re doing, for Kadara. And at least you _care_. Nexus leadership doesn’t. Except for Kesh. Tann and Addison judge me for making connections with the exiles, but they don’t actually care. The exiles are our people, too, we all came here together. We can’t just make up a story about all exiles being criminals and make it okay. It’s just...I…” she huffed, closing her eyes and organizing her thoughts. 

Reyes said nothing, completely blindsided. He wasn’t at all bothered that she’d thought she was better than him; he thought so too. It was her evolution of thought on the Nexus that surprised him. He leaned over to kiss her on the forehead in encouragement and draped an arm over her belly, intrigued by where her line of thought would take her. Take _them_ , because he sensed something momentous coming. 

She opened her eyes, searching his. “So long as you’re true to me, so long as you don’t use or betray me, I would join you in exile if I was forced to make a choice.” She paused, her eyes hardening in a way he hadn’t seen before. “But if you try to play your Charlatan’s games with me again...not only will I leave, but I will destroy you. This is your fair warning. You won’t get another one.” Reyes shivered, believing in his bones that not only did she mean what she said, but that she had the strength and determination to see it through. 

He lowered his lips to hers. “The day I am not true to you, I resign myself to your judgment,” he swore. For once in his life, he meant it. Whatever small doubts he’d had that she would stand beside him were gone. Ryder was not a woman to make oaths lightly. If she said she’d join him, she would - and the same if she had to destroy him. Of all the people in the Milky Way or Andromeda who could achieve the feat, Ryder was near the top of the short list, in spite of her youth and relative inexperience. She was a quick learner and had the advantage of knowing him better than anyone. She could be his salvation or his downfall. 

She grasped his hair and yanked, making him snarl as she played the dominant one for a change. “Believe me, Reyes.”

“I do, _mi reina_. Believe me, I do,” he said with feeling before tearing himself free and trying to devour her. She inhaled sharply when his lips shifted from her mouth to her breast, biting a nipple through her shirt and bra. 

“Don’t you want to hear the rest?” she gasped. 

Reyes lifted his head, looking at her hungrily. In the swirl of feelings, he’d forgotten that there was more. A rare failure on his part, but if anyone would be the cause of it, it was her. “What else?”

“I’m going on a mission.” Her long pause raised red flags.

“What kind of mission?”

She bit her lip, the way she did when she was thinking hard and nervous at the same time. “Vehn Terev hid a kett transponder in the badlands. I collected it today. Gil thinks he can use it to trace the location of the archon’s ship.”

“The archon?” Feeling like he should know the significance of that, cast his mind back over Resistance reports. “The kett leader?”

Ryder nodded, watching him. There was more. He thought fiercely for a moment. “Oh, no. No, _mi amor_.” 

She looked away. “ _Si_. I’m going after him, because nobody else in the Initiative can. The asari Pathfinder is still fresh, to the point that Cora may need to train her. The turian Pathfinder was a Spectre, but he’s still reeling from the death of his boyfriend. Alec is dead and Scott is still confined to the Nexus. We haven’t located the salarians and the Nexus has pissed off the krogans. The angara don’t have the resources or the balls, I can’t tell which. There’s only me.”

“That’s why you claimed me in front of your crew and created an opportunity for us all to get to know each other. So that if something happened…”

She buried her face in his chest. “Yes.” The affirmation was muffled, and she sniffled. The night’s actions were more calculating than he’d expected from her, a hand perfectly played. He marveled at how well they’d worked together even with him unaware of the details; he was proud of her for playing so well. The things they could accomplish if they were one hundred percent on the same side, if the Nexus screwed up enough to send her to him...they could have an empire, not just a kingdom.

He wrapped both arms around her and rolled onto his back, squeezed her hard enough to make her grunt and kept squeezing until she tapped him, the action reminding him of their night of bondage play. He loosened his arms and freed her immediately. She rose up enough to look him in the face. “I love you, Reyes.” She swallowed, hard, as bad as he was at confessing feelings but apparently determined to get the words out. “I will always try to keep my promise to come back to you, but when we leave to hunt the archon...it could get tricky.”

He pulled her lips down to his, tasting her, his tongue dancing with hers before releasing her. “ _Te amo tanto,_ Laz. _Más de lo que sabes_.” He still couldn’t bring himself to say it in English, but he’d used her name and she knew the words _te amo_. She’d know he was serious.

“Can you stay through tomorrow?” he asked after another kiss. “I’ll take you to see your surprise early.” 

She perked up immediately, her sniffles forgotten. “Surprise? Take me to it? What are you planning?” She tried tickling him, making a cute, frustrated noise when he was unmoved. “Yes, I can stay a day. Vetra needs to get supplies and Gil has to crack the transponder, and then I’ve got to do a favor for Kesh on Elaaden to secure her support before we go...dammit, Reyes, what are you planning? I’ll get it out of you -”

He flipped them, determined to be in control tonight if she was leaving him to hunt kett luminaries in a few days. “You won’t,” he growled as he bit her throat and planted kisses along her neck. “You can try though.”

She squirmed free with an evil chuckle, rolling straight off the bed and grabbing the remote on the bedside table. As throbbing percussion and low Spanish words rose from her sound system, she pulled him up from the bed and settled him in a chair she had dragged out from her desk. He started to reach for her, but she wagged a finger at him, rocking her hips sensuously and stripping her top off. The music swirled around him as she did, teasing and enticing.

_Tú eres puro, puro chantaje_  
Puro, puro chantaje  
Vas libre como el aire  
No soy de ti ni de nadie 

She ground her hips an inch above his straining cock, her breath on his face, his ear, his neck, before kissing him roughly and stepping away, swaying behind him with nails like claws dragging over his shoulder, nipping his neck from behind to make him groan. As she swayed back in front of him, she dropped her trousers, hips tipping left to right with the beat. The sight of her gyrating in bra and panties was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen, until she slipped her bra off and leaned over him, shaking her tits. 

He leaned forward, trying for a lick, but she danced out of reach. Raised her hands over her head and swiveled her hips. Caressed herself, eyes closed, as if in the throes of passion. He knew that face, had seen it beneath him more times than he could have hoped when he first walked into Kralla’s Song. _Next time, I’m tying her wrists over her head and making her dance_ , he promised himself as the pulse in his cock pounded. She stepped out of her panties, twirled, and bent over naked in front of him, ass waggling invitingly. 

Unable to restrain himself, he grabbed her hips and buried his tongue between her lower lips. She tasted of salt and woman and _sex_ , and he needed more. Propelling them back to the bed, he pushed her down and gripped the back of her neck. 

“You’re being naughty, Ryder,” he growled. “Cheating at poker, teasing your boyfriend…”

“Then punish me,” she taunted, hips still swaying with the music, grinding against his erection. 

“I don’t have the patience for it tonight, but we’ll go back to my room in Tartarus soon,” he breathed, pushing his throbbing cock into her and groaning as she shuddered under him. She fit around him as no other man or woman had before. Moved with him, fought him and submitted to him, gave herself to him while remaining herself in a way he’d never experienced with anyone before meeting her. It was utterly intoxicating. Every time he was inside her was an exercise in control, trying not to finish before she’d found her pleasure.

When he felt her climax, he marked her as he chased his own release. It wasn’t long in coming, and her low laugh sounded eerily like one of his. 

“We’ve captured each other, Reyes,” she panted. He gave a final thrust to hear her cry out before letting her go. “I think we have, _mi amor_ ,” he admitted. They crawled to the head of the bed and collapsed onto the pillows together. Each of their arms sought the other. Ryder slung her leg over Reyes’ hip and buried her face in his chest again, clinging tighter than she ever had. Normally he couldn’t abide clingy partners, but with Ryder, he welcomed it. She was the only person he’d ever wanted to keep, and it was a relief to know she wanted - needed - him as much as he did her. 

Especially given the surprise he had waiting for her tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: When this was going to be a collection of drabbles, this chapter was called "Gyration" and was going to be about a striptease. I didn't completely want to lose that, so there you go. 
> 
> The song is "Chantaje" by Shakira. I don't own it or make money from sharing it here, I just love it (plus, it fits the two of them).


	8. Homestead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder's looming mission to hunt the archon has Reyes moving up the schedule on a surprise he'd been arranging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut, fluff, and fluffy smut.
> 
> A million thank yous to everyone following along. Hope you like this chapter!

Something was...strange. Not bad, not threatening, just unusual. Reyes blinked himself awake and started back into the pillow at the sight of Ryder’s bright aqua eyes boring into his from ten centimeters away. He snorted a laugh, unable to help himself. 

“If you were anyone else that close to me when I woke up, I’d shoot you,” he grumbled good-naturedly, settling back into the comfort of her fluffy pillows. 

“Likewise,” Ryder said with a grin. “But you’re so goddamn good looking. It’d be a waste. Aaand apparently you have a surprise for me!” She bounced up and down on the bed, her innocent excitement a stark contrast to her usual mien of casual boredom or frustrated annoyance. When was the last time someone had given her a gift? Given her anything except orders and demands? 

He just hoped she liked his surprise. It was premature even given her admission of loving him last night, but his sister always said he’d know, deep in his heart, when he found the one person who was right for him. Said he should do whatever it took to keep that person, even through the hard times, if he didn’t want to end up a lonely, abusive old drunk like their father. Ryder was it...as long as he didn’t fuck things up with Charlatan business. Or by being his own stupid self. 

Her bouncing showed no sign of stopping. The amount of energy that went into it at this time of the morning was borderline annoying and her nakedness while doing so was distracting, so he grabbed her, chuckling when she shrieked and tried to wrestle with him. They ended up halfway off the bed and slipping further, Reyes on top, Ryder scrambling to grasp bedsheets only to pull them along with her. She shouted and laughed as he dragged her back up and pinned her, grasping her wrists tightly and holding them over her head. “Not fair!” she gasped, breathless. 

“What’s not fair?” he growled as he kissed her neck. _Mmm. This might be a better way to wake up after all. Who needs coffee?_

“You can’t beat me at wrestling in my own bed!”

It was such a ridiculous statement that he stopped, stared at her, and then laughed with a _pffft_ of disbelief. “I think we need to find a better use for your mouth if that’s what's coming out of it this morning.” She licked her lips, appearing amenable to the suggestion.

Reyes’ omnitool chirped and he swore. It was Keema’s tone, but he desperately wanted to feel Ryder’s mouth around his cock. “You need to get that?” she asked, smirking. Reyes made a frustrated noise. “I do, but I also need to do something about _this_ ,” he said, indicating his now very hard erection. 

The evilest grin he’d ever seen on a woman’s face slid across Ryder’s. “Answer it,” she said, pushing herself up and forcing him up as well, then shoving him back on the pillows in a rare display of bedroom dominance. He allowed it because she then positioned herself between his legs, stroking his cock. _Shit_. 

“You’re only going to do something if I accept the call, aren’t you,” he said, knowing the answer. She nodded, grin widening, and Reyes quickly debated the risks of discussing Collective business in front of her. She knew who he was - the most dangerous secret - and had accepted the ramifications of making him promise not to hide the big stuff already when she stayed silent about his decision to send an agent to the Nexus. If he could ease her into what he did it could smooth the path to making her an asset. There was always the risk of her leaving him after learning too much about the Collective’s operations, but he hadn't wanted to take the gamble of telling her he was the Charlatan before and it had nearly cost him his life at her hands.

Her tongue flicked out, tagging the tip of his dick, and he swore again as he accepted the call. True to her word, she lowered her head and licked up his shaft with a long, flat stroke. It was all he could do to keep his voice neutral and he was grateful it was a voice-only call. 

“Keema, it’s a bit early.” Ryder took him in her mouth, slowly. 

“I thought you’d want the report from yesterday’s action against that Outcast cell. And you were going to issue new orders for taxing the weedheads in the badlands. The ones with the hallucinogenic, anti-bacterial, whatever-it-is plant.” 

He had to swallow a groan of pleasure as Ryder sucked hard on her way up and swirled her tongue on her way back down. “I’ll stop by later this morning. I’m occupied.”

“You? Occupied at this time of the morning? What - _oh_. Ryder’s in port. Is she there?”

Ryder started to pop up, presumably to greet her angaran friend. Reyes captured her by the hair and guided her back down, up, and down again, controlling her tempo. “She’s here. And she’s also occupied. Keema, I will stop by _later this morning_.” He couldn’t stop the growl in his voice as Ryder worked her throat and tongue.

Keema made a disgusted noise. “Ugh, you're shameless. I don’t even want to know.” The call disconnected. 

“Now you’re going to get it,” Reyes promised, using his grip on her hair to pull her mouth up to his and his other hand to guide himself into her lower lips. She was on top, but he was the one fucking, holding her in place as he thrust upwards. She held onto his shoulders, squeezing hard enough that he could feel her nails until she arched back and groaned, dragging them over his shoulders. With a few final pumps he finished as well, allowing her to collapse face-first into the pillows next to him with a satisfied sigh. 

“I need to clean up and sort out some business,” he murmured, running a hand along her spine. “Meet me at docking slip three, tonight at six.”

She turned onto her side and pressed up against him, her lips meeting his in a kiss that held as much emotion as the one he’d given her atop those shipping containers at Sloane’s party. “I can’t wait,” she whispered. 

***

The day passed slowly, probably not helped by the fact that he kept checking the time. Running the port was much more tedious than ousting Sloane had been, although strategizing against the Outcast holdouts was diverting. Creating income streams in the form of taxes and fees was unpopular with the fiercely anti-government inhabitants of Kadara Port, however necessary it was to pay for much-needed infrastructure improvements, and an infowar campaign needed to be prepared. Negotiations with Ditaeon for the use of berths in the docking area were underway; Reyes had to strike a balance between his promise to deal fairly with Ryder’s settlement and his need to fund the port. There was also the matter of dealing with Kaetus before Ryder discovered he had Sloane’s former lieutenant in custody. Kill him, and risk angering Ryder, or let him go, and risk a resurgent Outcast threat? All in all, it was a headache. Invigorating in a way but with Ryder on Kadara yet not next to him, his mind wasn’t in it. 

Keema finally sent him away, irritated with his unusual distraction. It was almost time to meet Ryder anyway, and he found himself deep in thought as he made the walk from the headquarters down to the docks. 

How had she gotten so deeply inside his head that he couldn’t focus on his work? Reyes had always been the consummate professional, had nearly gotten himself killed with it when he tried to keep his role as the Charlatan separate from his growing personal attraction to Ryder in the weeks leading up to Sloane's assassination. Was that it? Did letting her see both the Charlatan and hints of the real Reyes mean that he had let her all the way in? 

Reyes had worked hard up to now to prevent anyone from learning as much about him as Ryder now knew; in his business, he knew the value - and power - information held. Apparently keeping everyone out had also been the shield allowing him to stay focused on building the Collective to the exclusion of all else because as hard as he tried, he couldn't focus only on Kadara anymore. The people still mattered, and he would work to their benefit as long as he could, but there was Ryder to think of now as well. Her needs, wants, and desires; her crew, connections, and enemies as well as his own. 

He'd never been so personally invested in the well-being of another person, and it scared him almost as much as it inspired him. If he wasn't so convinced of what they could achieve together, he'd have walked long before now. Run, possibly to regret it later yet certain of the necessity. But she made him want to be a better man, made him see beyond all the ugly choices and the blood on his hands, so he stayed. Fought his deep-seated instincts and the darker side of his nature to give her truth and honesty. It wasn't easy, and he still hid some things from her, but he was trying.

It helped that she was everything he'd ever looked for in a partner: politically powerful, wickedly intelligent, dangerously competent, strikingly attractive, and with compatible desires in bed. No, he wouldn't be able to free himself from her anytime soon. So he did the next best thing, working to adapt to and control what he couldn't change. 

Which was why he was about to fly her out to the badlands to see the spot he'd chosen for a future homestead, a place he had planned to build for himself anyway but now wanted to share with her. 

He wasn't even sure _he_ was ready for it, but he knew facing his fears of commitment and openness was preferable to losing her. If there was a risk of losing her on this archon mission, he wanted her to go into it with the knowledge that she had something more to fight for, if she wanted it.

 _Is it too soon? I know she loves me, but does she want to plan a future with me? Me, a smuggler, information broker, exile, and all around “shady bastard”?_. Reyes rarely, almost never, experienced self-doubt but something about Ryder made him look back on his choices, wonder if he could have made better ones somewhere along the line. Probably, but hindsight was twenty-twenty and he might never have met her had he followed a narrower path. He shoved the thought aside.

On arriving at the docks he deactivated the traps on the door of his shuttle and started the preflight checklist while he waited for her. No sooner had that been completed than he heard her voice calling his name questioningly. “Inside,” he shouted just loudly enough for her to hear. She had a filthy smirk on her face when she entered the cockpit, probably remembering the time he’d bent her over some cargo crates and fucked her so furiously the forward viewport had fogged up. That was a favorite memory, one he thought about every time he flew this shuttle. 

She dropped into the jump seat and sprawled as if she belonged in it, eyeing him speculatively. Normally it would have irritated Reyes for someone to board his shuttle and take liberties of any kind, but today it pleased him. If she saw his things as hers, perhaps she’d react positively to the surprise waiting for her. 

Her eyes flicked above his head and paused, a small frown furrowing her brow. “N-503 Anubis,” she read aloud. Reyes shifted, wondering what she’d make of it. It was the only thing he’d personalized in the otherwise nondescript craft, scratching his Nexus shuttle designation and callsign into the wall next to the pilot’s seat for good luck. Her lips lifted and her brow smoothed. “Anubis. Ancient god of the dead, master of secrets, guide of souls. Responsible not only for embalming and shepherding the deceased but also for controlling the impulses of those seeking chaos and disorder. I’ve never met someone with a more fitting callsign,” she grinned. “You even look the part. Black hair, golden eyes, jackal’s smile.”

He was surprised she knew the myth, having forgotten that it was her interest in ancient history that had drawn her to the Prothean dig sites back in the Milky Way. “Hey,” he mock-pouted. “I thought you liked my smile.” 

She slid onto his lap, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and kissed him. “I do,” she whispered. They distracted themselves with the feel of each other’s lips until a squawk came from the radio. “Kadara Port Control to Shuttle Nexus-503, are you still departing at 1800 hours?”

Reyes swatted at the radio. “Affirmative. Lifting off now.” 

Ryder lifted herself for the brief time it took to turn around and sit on his lap, back to front, head leaning against his shoulder. “It’s easier to fly when your passenger is in the jump seat,” he nagged without meaning it, enjoying the feeling of her weight on him. 

“But I bet it’s a hell of a lot more interesting when she’s in your lap,” she shot back, wiggling her hips for emphasis. “Besides, I thought you were some kind of hotshot. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Speaking of seeing…” He leaned over and pulled a slip of black cloth from his pocket. “Blindfold first.” She twisted to look at him, eyes smoky, and bit her lip, apparently remembering the last time he’d blindfolded her. That was another of his favorite memories. He tied the cloth gently but firmly, not wanting her to see where they were going.

Reaching his arms around her and tucking his head over her shoulder, he kissed her cheek and got them smoothly into the air.

“Where are we going?” she asked, bouncing. 

“Stop that,” he growled, “or we’re going to crash when I fuck you on the console.” She shook, laughing silently. It wasn’t bouncing, but it wasn’t exactly an improvement as far as his cock was concerned. “We’re going to Haarfel,” he told her, hoping she’d stop before he really was tempted to fuck her midflight. 

“What’s in Haarfel? Other than the vault?” 

“You’ll see when we get there.” 

Somehow, despite the temptation she represented, he managed to get them there without bending her over the console. _Soon_ , he reminded himself, thinking of a particular natural feature in the spot he’d chosen. 

Ryder darted up out of his lap and felt her way to the door as soon as they touched down, excited as a varren puppy about to go on a rampage. He could only look at her for a moment, sucked in by her happiness. “Come _on_ ,” she urged him, grinning ear to ear. “I want to see whatever it is!”

“Remember,” he whispered, smirking when she shivered. “Look with your heart, not your eyes.” She made a questioning noise but he didn’t answer. Slapping the door release, he carefully led her down the ramp and out onto the plateau, stopping her where she’d see the most picturesque view before taking off the blindfold. 

Her delighted smile was rewarding. He’d been half-worried that she would expect a physical gift despite the noticeable lack of personal items in her quarters on the Tempest. “This is beautiful, Reyes.” Her eyes roved the landscape. Kadara Port was in the distance directly ahead, the vault in the nearer distance and a bit to the right. Mountainous crags rose steeply on either side and a short walk behind them. A gentle breeze cut the heat and teased the sparse grass. With the sun edging downward and the lights from the port just beginning to sparkle, it was perfect.

She spun, taking everything in. He saw her note the cave, the trail up, the natural knee-high ridges and boulders framing the plateau’s edge. Saw the moment when she stopped seeing the beauty of the location and saw…

“It’s completely defensible,” she murmured. “Cliffs and natural walls on three sides. A mountain behind. That cave probably dead-ends, so unless you’re flying there’s only one path up. View of the docks to see who’s coming and going, view of the vault…” she trailed off, considering the spot a short while longer before turning to look at him with narrowed eyes. “What is this place, and what are you hiding in the caves?”

He threw his head back and laughed, his nervousness momentarily forgotten. She knew him so well it both scared and thrilled him. “I might have some merchandise in the cave,” he answered with a sly grin.

“And the location?” He sobered and didn’t reply, needing her to say it first. She searched his face, looking for clues. 

“Reyes is this...are you...” Her eyes drilled deeper. “Will this be...home?” He swallowed, hard, feeling his heart race and wondering if SAM was whispering the truths of his physiology in her head. He could only look into her steady aquamarine gaze and hope she got it.

She did, of course. She knew him better than anyone had since his long-dead sister. 

“It is, isn’t it. And you brought me here to surprise me with…” She frowned, thinking furiously. He could see the gears turning in her head. When her face blanked, he knew she’d figured it out. _The moment of truth…_

“It’s not just going to be _your_ home someday. You want it to be… _our_ home,” she said breathlessly. Still unable to answer her in words, and starting to feel a little dizzy, he nodded once. She swayed back for a moment, jaw dropping. “I wasn't expecting anything like this. I had no idea you felt…” she trailed off and threw herself at him, her arms squeezing around his neck and kisses raining over his face. Tension left him in a wash of relief and he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close. 

“When you said you were leaving to hunt the archon I...wanted you to know there was something more to come back to than just a third-rate smuggler. If you wanted to. I know it's probably too soon for both of us but...” He couldn't say the rest, couldn't share his sister's wisdom, and hoped showing her this would say it for him.

She leaned back, her face shining with emotion as she took him in again. He wondered what she saw to make her look at him like that. Whether he deserved it. He was trying, more than he ever had, but she was like the stars in the sky. Beautiful from a distance, capable of consuming you in a fiery death if you got too close or plotted the wrong course, and always something he aspired to reach, to master.

Slightly shaken, he dropped one arm and used the other to steer her toward the cave, wanting both to escape before he dug himself in further, and to capture her for good. “Let me show you the other nice feature of this cave.”

“What, other than being able to hide contraband in it?”

He smirked at her, let the simmering arousal he’d had leashed since she sat on his lap swim up into his gaze. It was her turn to blink and swallow as she read his intent. “That good, huh?” she said breathlessly.

“You’ll see.”

Taking her hand, he led her past the first cavern - where he was currently storing a few crates for client pickup - and into a small grotto. Bioluminescent lichen provided a soft blue glow in the dim space and the air was thick with humidity. Overhead, a small, round hole would provide a few rays of sun at noon and starlight at night. And as the central feature, a hot spring gently steamed in the cool air of the cave, smelling faintly of sulfur. 

“Oooh, Reyes,” Ryder breathed. “Real estate with a view, defensibility, extra storage, _and_ a natural hot tub? You definitely know how to spoil a woman.”

“Not just _a_ woman. _My_ woman,” he corrected her, hugging her from behind. Suddenly he felt hesitant. He wasn’t the only one who had difficulty with feelings, after all. “Is this...okay?” It would be utterly ironic if he scared her off with his attempts to be more committed.

Ryder leaned into him with a sigh. “A month ago I'd have run. But I meant what I said last night. I choose you, and Kadara. I'm everyone's Pathfinder, but now I can see a future I _want_ to fight for, something for myself and not some abstract idea of the good of the galaxy.” She shifted in his arms, working the buttons of her trousers and dropping them to the floor, toeing her boots off, and wiggling against him to shed her jacket. “This is more than okay. It’s perfect,” she said. 

She stepped out of his arms and stripped herself bare, dipping a toe into the pool. “Definitely perfect.” Carefully, feeling for the bottom with pointed toes, she slid into the pool with barely a splash. Reyes could only watch, drinking in the sight of her lithe, toned body. She turned back to look at him, grinning like a cat. “Are you coming?”

“I certainly hope so,” he muttered as he hurriedly stripped his own clothing off. 

The water was the perfect temperature - hot enough to relax, but not so hot as to be uncomfortable. He sat on a smooth ledge, feeling the warmth ease into his muscles, and sighed. Ryder scooted back to float in his embrace, her head tipped back to rest against his chest. For a while, all was right, still, calm. There were no buyers to source goods for. No enemies to outmaneuver. No appearances to keep up. No Charlatan and Pathfinder. Just Reyes and Ryder.

“Reyes…”

“Mmm..?”

“Will this last?”

HIs arms tightened around her reflexively, but he strove to keep his voice light. “What do you mean?”

“This. This right now. Us, balancing the Nexus and the Collective.”

He pulled her in, perhaps a bit rougher than was warranted, and discarded his initial reflex to deflect the question. Chasing the kett leader to his ship would be dangerous, and if something happened to her while doing it he wanted her to know the truth of how he felt. “This is what I want. If it’s what you want, too...at least we can try.” He forced a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Or, you could always join the Collective.”

She turned in his arms, lifting her thighs to settle over his and pressing her lips to his in a kiss of want and need. Neither of them was good at _speaking_ their emotions. But both of them were skilled at physically expressing them. Each kiss became a declaration. Each caress a worship. And when they joined, there was heaven on earth.

He explored her with a finger, finding her wet even in the pool, and she moaned against his mouth, shifting to make herself accessible to him. He grasped his cock and rubbed it against her entrance, half question, half demand, and she responded with vigor. Pressed herself down on him, swiveled her hips to feel him inside her.

It was the slowest, most sensual sex they’d ever had. Even when he couldn’t help but take her lightly by the throat as he thrust upwards, with enough strength that she knew she was his but not so much as to threaten her, all she did was tip her head back, offering herself, as if asking for more. He tightened his grip, reveled in her strangled gasps and the redoubled efforts of her hips against his. The tighter he held her, the harder she rode him, until she shuddered and kissed him hard, groaning her completion into his mouth. 

Reyes tried to hold off, tried to make it last longer, but Ryder was the only person to whom he’d ever found himself surrendering control. Moments after her, he was groaning into her mouth, feeling the clench of his balls emptying deep inside her. 

They remained joined, forehead to forehead with the water of the spring lapping around them, unable to separate themselves from the feeling of connectedness until she carefully lifted herself from him and settled on his thighs. 

“I needed this, Reyes,” she admitted, her voice the barest whisper in his ear. He heard the hesitation as she struggled to voice thoughts tied to emotion. “I want you. Want this. Please…” she trailed off, but he thought he knew what she was asking him for.

“What's mine is yours, _mi reina_ ,” he promised. 

Ryder kissed him, tasting of hope and home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one that had a different title when this was a collection of drabbles: Hot Spring. Again, I didn't want to lose it, sooooo there you have it!


	9. Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes receives a call that gets him off Kadara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut, but TW for a torture scene. Some dark!Reyes / Charlatan. Canon divergence, because reasons.

Elaaden was hot as always, the shifting sand swirling up the gangway as Ryder stepped off the Tempest. Activating the vault had cut the heat enough to make it livable, but it would never be her favorite place to visit. Still, she’d promised Drack that she’d look into the tensions in the colony and Kesh that she’d try to bring the krogan back into an alliance with the Nexus, so here she was. Gil had cracked the kett transponder on the way over, but she wanted to settle things with the krogan before heading out. Kesh was good to her, Drack was like an uncle, and if the kett struck back after she finished with the Archon the Initiative would benefit from krogan support. 

When she and her squad arrived at New Tuchanka and met Morda, Ryder’s estimation of the difficulty of the endeavour ratcheted up a notch or ten. The Overlord was gruff, intimidating even for a krogan, and carried a Nexus-sized grudge. Ryder understood, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. She did have to recover a drive core, though. And clear a den of criminals from the flophouse she discovered while tracking the damn drive core what seemed like halfway across the planet when they discovered it wasn’t safely ensconced in the derelict Remnant ship, as everyone had thought. Then fight more criminals, arrange for the core to be picked up, and watch the drama of Jorgal Strux’ attempt at trickery fall apart. 

She gave the drive core to Morda in the end. The krogan had been so royally screwed over by everyone for as long as Drack had been alive, and it got Ryder an Initiative settlement. Tann and Addison wouldn’t be happy about the deal, but they could screw off. She’d kept her word to Kesh, and Kandros would probably be happy to get his heavies back in the militia. As long as the Nexus leaders were balanced against one another, they wouldn’t be able to act against her in unison.

 _Where did that thought come from?_ she wondered. It wasn’t like her to think so...politically. _Spending too much time with the Charlatan, I guess_. Ryder smiled, the exhaustion of the arduous last few days momentarily forgotten as she remembered his surprise. _He loves me, even if he can’t find the words to say it._

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you,” Vetra said flatly. Ryder rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she admitted in a huff. Drack grumbled something about love-addled fools and strode ahead to the Nomad.

“I just hope you’re not making a mistake,” her turian friend replied. “He lied to you. Lying’s -”

“Not something you try once and quit, yes, you’ve told me. But he didn’t lie so much as hide a truth that could get him killed.” Vetra stared at her, clearly not buying it. “Vetra...he’s _trying_. Really trying. And didn’t you do the same thing with Sid?”

“That’s completely different.” 

“Not really...you didn’t tell her about what you do, trying to protect her. Can he really be blamed for trying to protect himself? I heard about that guy Sloane had skinned alive because they thought they’d captured the Charlatan,” she said in a lower voice, hoping they were far enough away that the keen hearing of the krogan standing guard at the gates behind them didn’t pick up the last word. She shuddered, briefly sickened at the thought of Reyes being captured, tortured, and killed. It had shocked her to discover that Reyes and the Charlatan were one and the same, infuriated her that he hadn’t trusted her, but when she took her own ego out of the equation and considered the circumstances he’d been working with it was easy to forgive him. She just wished her crew could see it the same way.

Vetra sighed, her subvocals rumbling. “Fine. I’ll give him a chance. But only because he makes you so Spirits-damned happy. Where’d you two go that last night on Kadara, anyway? You came back looking like he’d given you the stars in a bag.”

Ryder flushed and pulled herself up into the Nomad. “He’s picked out a spot for a homestead. It’s perfect.”

“Wait, is the kid saying she’s going to shack up with the Charlatan?” Drack grumbled from the back. Vetra slid in next to him. “Yes.” She sounded both annoyed and resigned.

“Good. The closer she keeps him, the better she can watch him for betrayal,” the old krogan declared.

“For fuck’s sake, he’s not going to betray me!” Ryder snapped, wheeling the rover around with more force and speed than was strictly necessary and pointing it toward the site she’d identified for an outpost. She missed the head shaking going on behind her. 

***

Ryder didn’t like Addison, but she couldn’t deny the woman’s efficiency. New Tuchanka was expanded by the arrival of an Initiative presence within a day, the prefab buildings set up in another. She made the requisite speeches, met the newly elected mayor, got details on the Architect out in the dunes, and decided she’d had enough for one week. 

She boarded the Tempest long enough to shuck her armor and put it in her locker for cleaning, heading straight back out to sit in the shade of a lone tree atop one of the rocky outcrops overlooking the new settlement. It was nice to just sit down, the weight of her responsibilities left behind with her armor, and daydream. She was musing over what a future with Reyes might look like when she heard the crunch of feet on stone behind her. She stood and turned with her mask in place ready to shake yet another hand...and felt a sharp, burning pain along with a fist in the gut. “This is for my brother,” a voice said.

Grunting, she staggered back, reflexes taking over. She grasped the arm of her attacker, noticing only that it was a human male, and pulled his hand away. The knife in his fist was bloody, and things hurt inside her. She leveraged him around, snapped the wrist of the hand holding the blade, and shoved him over the edge of the outcrop with a sloppy biotic push before collapsing. “Pathfinder, you’ve been poisoned. I am slowing your heart rate in an attempt to mitigate the effects of the poison and blood loss.”

“SAM, call...help…” As darkness washed over her, her last thought was of Reyes. He wasn’t going to take this well.

###

Reyes was flicking through reports in his room in Tartarus, a half-empty glass of whiskey on the table beside him. As he reached the bottom of the list, he came across one that concerned him despite being flagged low priority.

_< Subject under surveillance has left Kadara. Last seen boarding a shuttle with a small bag of personal items. Flight plan lists Elaaden as only port of call.  > _

The attached image was of the man he’d kicked senseless a couple of weeks ago, the one whose turian friend Reyes had killed in a knife fight - and whose brother Ryder had burned alive while fighting to take back H-047c from the Outcasts. He'd put this man and his female companion under surveillance to see if they'd lead him to any further persons of interest, which was what led to the raid Keema had called to report on when he was with Ryder the other morning. He'd ordered this one left alive, just in case he could lead them to another Outcast cell.

Reyes had a bad feeling about this. Had the Outcast known Ryder was going to Elaaden next? Or was it just bad luck? Either way, his people in Paradise were still too fresh to be trusted with this, especially after bungling the assignment with Elora. Ryder was too important, and the criminals on Elaaden were even more dangerous than those on Kadara, having been too rotten to be accepted even by the relatively low standards of Kadara Port. There were too many variables. He’d have to go himself if he wanted to keep an eye on the man and see who else he was plotting with. 

Scooping up his jacket, he walked quickly toward the lift up to the docks and his shuttle, opening a comm channel to Ryder as the lift ascended. No answer. _Shit, shit, shit._ She could just be fighting, or talking, or...something. But the feeling in his stomach said otherwise. He always trusted that feeling, and right now it was screaming trouble. A call rang through as he was stepping into the shuttle. It was the Tempest, but not Ryder. “Vidal,” he answered curtly. 

“Ryder's been hurt,” Vetra’s dual-toned voice informed him without greeting or preamble. “Gut stabbed and poisoned. She's not doing well, Vidal. We need your resources to try and identify an antidote. It’s something from Heleus that SAM and Lexi can’t definitively identify beyond fragments they pulled of the chemical composition from her blood, and synthesizing something based on a guess will either kill her or take too long.”

Cold slithered into his stomach to join the lead weight already sitting there. What the hell had happened? How did someone get close enough to stab her in the belly, and why hadn't she been wearing her armor on _Elaaden_ , of all places? He sought the dark, quiet place in his mind where the Charlatan lived, pulled the emotionless side of himself to the fore before he was lost in a rapidly-cresting wave of rage and despair. “Send me what you have and I'll start working on it.” There was no point in asking how long she had; it would just take away from the time he had to solve the problem. 

Vetra ended the call and he stepped into the shuttle. His omnitool pinged with an incoming mail notification and he opened it immediately. Wrapped in the distance of the Charlatan, he reviewed the record with a clinical eye. Knife entered front upper left quadrant of the abdomen. Knicked the spleen and diaphragm. Coated in an unidentified substance which caused convulsions, foaming at the mouth, erratic pulse, and vomiting. The partial chemical composition was included in an attached report. Subject in a coma induced by SAM and going into surgery for the stab wound.

He forwarded the symptoms and report to Keema with orders to immediately identify the substance using any means or resources necessary, then started running through his own extensive databases. Normally he tried to use more subtlety when it came to his relationship with the Pathfinder, or making any connection between the Collective and the Pathfinder. But if her life was on the line...she was the only thing that mattered.

He’d come up empty and just started on his pre-flight checks when her response came back. 

“It's venom from a _daareshinn_ , an animal native to Aya. Sending the data to you now.”

“Thank you, Keema. Is there an antivenom?” 

“Yes, easily synthesized. The formula is included in the report. The Tempest can probably manage it, or you can get ingredients for a natural cure in the market. Reyes -” He signed off at the note of pity in her voice, not wanting to hear sympathy from his friend. Not now. For now, he had to be cold. Objective. Solve the problem first, then worry about the fallout. He forwarded the file to Vetra and rang through. “Vetra. Can the Tempest synthesize the compound I just sent over?” 

“SAM?” she asked. 

“Yes, Quartermaster Nyx. Commencing now.”

Reyes prepared to lift off. “I’m flying out. I’ll be there in two hours.” He closed the call before she could object. Before long he was in space, launching the shuttle towards the Zaubray system. He needed to make sure there would be no loose ends, and he absently touched the callsign he'd scratched in the wall for luck. He couldn’t lose her. Not when he’d finally admitted to both of them how much she meant to him.

***

He landed the shuttle alongside the Tempest, hoping that nobody in the outpost would recognize it, or him. Drack was waiting when the door opened and the Charlatan danced back as the krogan made a grab for him. “If I find out you had anything to do with this, I'll tear you into little pieces,” Drack growled.

He chose to ignore the threat. There were more pressing matters. “Do you have her attacker in custody?”

The old man glared, caressing his shotgun. “Yeah. Ryder threw the coward off a cliff, from the look of it. Lots of broken bits,” he grudgingly replied when the Charlatan didn't back down, sounding approving of Ryder’s handling of the situation at the end. 

“Good. He's mine.”

Drack’s gaze sharpened. “How'd you know it's a he?” 

They didn't have time for this. The Charlatan darted past, dodging the krogan’s reaching hand and walking fast in the direction of the Tempest. He heard rumbling and heavy footsteps behind him, paced to catch up, not to attack. It was a gamble leaving a krogan at your back, but he thought the old man would respect him for having the balls to do it. 

He turned slightly to speak over his shoulder. “If it is who I think it is, I've had him under surveillance for weeks. I killed his friend for threatening to do something to her, and followed him to a cell of Outcasts with a grudge against the Pathfinder. We were hoping he'd lead us to another but the last report I have said he was coming here. I saw it this morning,” he said, his voice rising at the end to cut off Drack’s protests. “She has enough to deal with as it is. I made the call. I'll deal with the consequences.”

They'd reached the ramp of the Tempest. “Got a quad on you, I'll give you that,” Drack said as they entered the ship. The Charlatan said nothing as he continued on to the medbay.

A crowd was gathered outside, half in the crew quarters and half in the corridor. Peebee was the only one who looked happy to see him, the asari bouncing on her toes nervously. She flashed him a quick, nervous smile.

“Who invited you?” Liam snapped, stepping to block his path. The man was clearly emotionally disturbed by the attack and looking for a target. Fortunately, Vetra pushed forward. “I did. Like him or not, he's the only one with the resources and inclination to help.”

“Yeah? Well, I don't buy it. He's shady, always has been. You couldn’t have called the Nexus, or the Moshae, or anyone else?” The Charlatan leveled cold eyes at him, making no response as he completely emptied himself of thought or emotion and shifted slightly into a ready stance, a predator with prey in sight. There was an uncomfortable shifting as crew members edged back, all of them recognizing the danger except for the hot-headed crisis specialist. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he answered softly, not taking his eyes from the other man. Nothing and nobody was going to stand between him and Ryder, and after spending a two-hour flight making a conscious effort not to conjure up every imaginable scenario his patience was just about gone. Liam was saved by Vetra stepping between them. 

“As Ryder’s second, _I_ decide who gets told that the Pathfinder is incapacitated. Vidal provided the cure in time to save her and, more importantly, will keep it quiet. We don’t need the pols on the Nexus thinking they can get an advantage while she’s down. Drop it, Kosta.”

“Excuse me,” he said to Liam, brushing past while the man was distracted. He entered the medbay, ignoring Lexi’s protests and shutting the door behind him. When the asari realized he wouldn’t be chased out, she sighed. “She’s just come out of surgery and the antivenom is working its way through her system. You saved her life, Vidal.”

The Charlatan didn’t answer, moving to the unconscious Pathfinder’s bedside and running a gentle finger along her cheekbone. She looked terrible - pale, drawn, weak. He felt rage rising in him again, squashed it for later. “She’ll live? Any complications?” 

Lexi smiled weakly. “Yes to the first question, no to the second. Between SAM slowing her functions and your speed in identifying the poison, we were able to take action before irreparable damage was done. She’ll need a good few days of rest, though, even with SAM accelerating healing.”

Nodding, he tucked the sheet closer around Ryder. “Where’s her attacker?” 

She shifted uncomfortably. “What are you going to do with him?”

He flicked his gaze up to hers. “Nothing he’ll survive,” he said with chilling honesty. Lexi shook her head. “I can’t -” 

Wrong answer. The Charlatan exited the medbay, finding Drack in the crowd of crewmembers. “Where is he?”

“Galley,” the krogan said with a wide grin. 

“Drack!” Lexi scolded. Drack shrugged and the Charlatan headed down the hall, scattering the Tempest crew. The krogan kept talking to Lexi behind him. “If he wants to take care of the hard part, I’m gonna help. We can’t have that pyjack at her back.” 

The Outcast recognized him when he arrived in the galley and hauled the scum to his feet; he could tell by the widening eyes and attempts to scream. The man was bound and gagged, clearly suffering from a broken arm and a few other broken things, but the Charlatan twined a hand in the back of his shirt and bodily dragged him out, fueled by a simmering rage and completely heedless of his enemy’s injuries. Drack was waiting and threw the man over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. “Where to?” he asked over the screaming.

“I have a place.”

“Course you do. Shady bastard.” The insult almost managed to sound affectionate. The Charlatan ignored the looks of horror and disgust directed at them by everyone else, completely unaffected. He would do what he had to do to keep Ryder safe. Always.

A short shuttle ride away was a secluded cave that the Collective used as a base. Only one of his people was in today, the asari’s eyes popping at their appearance. Drack dropped his burden, and the man screamed around his gag as he landed on his broken arm. “This one needs to tell everything he knows, and he needs to hurt doing it,” Reyes said. Drack chuckled behind him, a deep, slow _heh heh heh_ accompanied by the popping of huge knuckles. 

“Who are you?” the asari asked, suspiciously. The Charlatan got into her personal space, cowing her back. “I’m Vidal. I take my orders from the Charlatan. Any more questions?” She shook her head, stepping back. “Good. Get out.” She ran. 

He supposed he shouldn’t have been so harsh on her; he wouldn’t have wanted his people to just accept strangers showing up at Collective locations with an obvious intent to torture someone. 

Not the priority now. He’d deal with it later.

They bound the Pathfinder’s attacker to a storage rack and got to work. Torture wasn’t something Reyes enjoyed, but there were times when the Charlatan couldn’t afford to avoid it. Like now, when the love of his life had been stabbed and nearly died before she could even get to the archon. _Focus, worry about Ryder later, find her enemies now_ , he thought, bringing his mind back on track.

He’d found disfigurement an effective tactic in the past and it worked like a charm now. The pain of losing an ear was shocking but _seeing_ the ear is what broke the Outcast. “Tell us everything. Your compatriots, your plans, everything, and you’ll walk out of here,” the Charlatan said. “Or we can keep cutting pieces off.”

Between moans of fear and tears of pain, helped along by the occasional krogan fist, they pulled the story out of the man. He and the cell the Collective had eliminated earlier that week were the last surviving members of a splinter group of Outcasts run by Elora. All of them took the Pathfinder’s utter destruction of their operations on H-047c personally and had plotted a number of ways to take revenge. When their cell was destroyed he booked passage to Elaaden hoping to meet up with Elora, having heard about her “extended vacation”, and waited in Paradise for news. He’d acquired the venom after hearing it was used as an intoxicant but deadly in highly concentrated doses. It had been pure dumb luck that the Pathfinder herself had shown up and founded a settlement. Infiltrating the Initiative colony had been simple, and he’d caught another lucky break when the Pathfinder walked away unarmored from ship and crew. He didn’t know where Elora was and didn’t know of anyone else holding a grudge against the Pathfinder.

When the Charlatan was sure they’d gotten everything they could out of the now thoroughly-battered wreck of a man, he pulled his pistol. The man’s eyes widened. “Y-you said I’d walk out of h-h-here!” 

The Charlatan’s smile was icy as Voeld. “I lied.” He pulled the trigger. The man jumped once with the impact and died. He wiped the blood off his hands with a rag, turning to Drack to find the krogan eyeing him with a new respect. “You’re alright, kid,” he said. The Charlatan snorted. “I torture and murder a man in cold blood, and _that’s_ what earns your approval?”

The old man grunted. “Ryder’s surrounded by noble fools. Good fighters and good people, but unwilling to make the hard choices or do the difficult jobs. I was worried you were just using her, but you flew all the way out here to do the dirty work and make sure she’s safe. Should’ve told her about the guy sooner so she’d know to watch her ass, but that’s between you two.” He extended a massive hand and they clasped wrists, Drack pulling him in to make it a headbutt. The Charlatan stumbled back but didn’t fall. 

“Heh. Not bad at all. Let’s get back to the ship.”

They exited the cave. “Clean that up. I need to go make a report,” he ordered the asari. She nodded and hurried back in.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the shuttle and fastidiously cleaned the blood from under his nails with his boot knife, scrubbed a spot from his jacket, washed his face, and changed his shirt. It wouldn’t do to present himself to the Tempest looking and smelling like the murderer he was. 

###

 _Owww_. Everything hurt, her mouth was dry, her head was swimming. “The Pathfinder is regaining consciousness,” she heard SAM announce distantly. She really, really didn’t want to though. Her eyes opened almost of their own accord and she placed herself. Tempest medbay. Lexi was standing over her, a comforting hand on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?” the doctor asked gently.

“It hurts. I want some water. And Reyes,” she croaked sullenly, picking at the IV in her arm without being conscious of doing so. Lexi’s eyes darted to a corner of the medbay, and Ryder slowly turned her head to follow. “ _Reyes?_ ” she gasped. As he stepped forward she realized it wasn’t Reyes, but the Charlatan. The set of his jaw and the hardness of his eyes gave him away. _Shit, he’s scared. And if he’s here…_ “You never leave Kadara,” she mumbled around a thick tongue as Lexi went to get a cup. 

He cocked his head at her, eyes searching her face. “I do when the Pathfinder’s quartermaster calls me to say she’s dying of a stab wound and a mysterious poison.” His voice wasn’t completely cold, but it wasn’t Reyes’ richly seductive tone, either. Lexi handed her a cup of ice. “Suck on these. Don’t chew them.”

Ryder popped a piece of ice into her mouth, eyes fluttering shut in relief before she fixed on the Charlatan again. Something was wrong. He was holding himself back. “What happened?” she asked generally, not sure how to get to the question she really wanted to ask with an audience. 

The Charlatan opened his mouth, but Lexi jumped in, her voice dripping with disgust. “He took the man who attacked you out into the desert somewhere and executed him. Apparently after torturing him for information.” Her mouth snapped shut at the flat look the Charlatan leveled at her, but she didn’t leave the room. He shifted his gaze to Ryder, his golden-hazel eyes holding not a single hint of remorse. 

“Lexi, can you give us some privacy, please?” The asari rubbed a hand over her face but left without another word. Ryder held her hand out to the Charlatan. He closed the distance and took it, sitting on the edge of the bed. “SAM, lock the door. No-one comes in,” she ordered. 

“Yes, Pathfinder.”

She searched for Reyes in his eyes and found only the wolf. “Tell me,” she demanded. There was more to this, or he wouldn’t be holding on to the Charlatan now that the danger of her dying had passed. 

“He had to die,” he started.

“Not that. What else are you afraid I’ll find out?” 

A flash of shock passed over his face before he could find his impassive mask. “You’re dangerous, _mi amor_.”

“That’s right, I am, and if you fuck with me right now I can still pull you into a singularity. Lexi will not be pleased if I trash her medbay and myself at the same time, so talk,” she demanded hoarsely. 

He met her eyes squarely for a moment before answering. “I had your attacker under surveillance after that bar fight a few weeks ago. I found out the same morning you were attacked that he left Kadara for Elaaden to meet up with a known associate that I’ve been trying to track down. I tried to warn you, but he’d already struck.” 

Ryder was confused. Surely that wasn’t all there was to it. “You told me about having someone under surveillance already, when I scolded you for getting into fights over me. What else?” 

His hand tightened around hers. “The only reason he was here, and desperate enough to actually make a move, was because we destroyed his cell on Kadara. I let him go, hoping he'd lead us to another cell. This is my fault.” 

All she could do was blink at him dumbly for a second. “How is this your fault? You told me you had people under surveillance and I blew it off. I made the choice to sit out in the open without armor on. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for being so fucking stupid that you had to make a personal appearance on Elaaden.” The speech exhausted her vocal cords, and she slid another piece of ice into her mouth. His eyes shifted to watch her lips before meeting hers again. 

“You’re not mad?”

She shook her head. 

“About the torture and murder, either?”

Ryder squirmed. It was uncomfortable to know he was capable of it, but now she wouldn’t have to worry about her attacker. Not only that, but she hadn’t had to make the decision of what to do with him herself, hadn’t had to follow the Initiative’s laws about fair trials. He was simply...gone. A nobody who disappeared before he had a chance to become a somebody, become known as the man who had nearly killed the Pathfinder. Before she’d had to admit that she’d been stupid enough to allow herself to be stabbed. Handled without anyone needing to know by the same underworld that had coughed him up. 

It was uncomfortable, but if she was honest with herself, it was a relief. _Slippery slopes, Ryder…_

“I mean I’m not happy about it, but…” She narrowed her eyes. “Were you going to hide that from me?” she demanded, trying to avoid the real thing that was bothering her. Not wanting to think about the fact that she was kind of okay with how he'd taken care of things, what that said about her. 

The Charlatan’s gaze didn’t leave hers. “For a little while,” he admitted. 

She frowned. “ _That_ would have pissed me off. You’re lucky Lexi tattled. You _promised_ , Reyes. Make a fucking mental note that torture and murder count as _big stuff_ that needs to be shared when it’s done for me or in my name. Don’t make me remind you again. I mean it.” He nodded solemnly, and she tugged on his hand. “Come here,” she said, suddenly wanting nothing more than to sleep even though she knew she should probably be more worried about her lover’s latest criminal actions and her own acceptance of them. _He just wanted to keep me safe...does that make it okay?_

He settled in alongside her, careful of the bandage on her abdomen, and started stroking her hair. She fell asleep breathing in the scent of him, soothed by his nearness. He wasn’t a good man, but she was safe with him. Probably safer than she was with anyone else. Safe, and loved, and protected. After a childhood of being disappointed by her father’s absence and hounded by her brother’s disapproval the fact that Reyes would do _anything_ for her, without question, was strangely comforting. 

***

The next time Ryder woke, she was in her quarters. The pain was gone, and so was Reyes. She barely had time to be glad about the former and disappointed about the latter when the door to her quarters slid open and Reyes - no, still the Charlatan, on a closer look - appeared with a tray. 

“SAM said you were waking up and that you’d be hungry,” he said, setting the tray on her bedside table. She wasn’t hungry, she was ravenous, and she snatched the tray, shoveling food into her mouth as quickly as she could. 

“Pathfinder, I would advise slowing your food intake. Your current rate will cause gastrointestinal distress.” SAM sounded almost scolding. “Yes, mother,” Ryder muttered around a mouthful. She swallowed. Why was Reyes still taking refuge in the Charlatan? 

“Reyes,” she barked in her most commanding voice. He snapped to attention, looking startled and then annoyed to have done so. _Oooh, that’s satisfying._ She hid her grin. “What’s wrong?” 

He crossed his arms, scowling at her. “Nothing.”

“Then why is it still the Charlatan looking out of your eyes?”

His jaw clenched as the mask started to crack. She set aside the tray, reaching for him, and he started at her gentle touch. “Reyes,” she said softly. “Sit with me. Talk to me.” He resisted for a moment, stubbornly refusing to give in, before acquiescing with bad grace to her insistent pull on his arm. 

They sat side by side in silence, Ryder eating more slowly and waiting him out. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he finally said, not looking at her but out the wide viewport. “And that it would be my own fault for not controlling the situation better.” 

That was the single biggest admission he’d ever made, bigger even than showing her that he wanted to spend his future with her. It was an admission that the man who sat at the center of a growing spider’s web, accustomed to making everyone dance and having all the information, still couldn’t control everything and she, his woman, had gotten hurt. That had to hurt him on a deeply personal level. 

Ryder set the tray aside, turning him to look at her with two fingers on the side of his jaw. She swallowed hard when she saw unshed tears in his eyes. Reyes was back to himself, reluctantly starting to release all the emotion he’d kept bottled up for however many days it had been since the incident, and it threatened to overwhelm them both. She kissed him, a soft, barely-there press of her lips to his. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

It was the wrong thing to say. He started to close off again. “As soon as you’re well enough for active duty, you’re going after the archon. I can’t protect you, and I can’t control you. I just have to trust that you’re not going to do something stupid and get yourself killed. Do you know how hard that is?” He stood, hands on his hips, head hanging. Trying to escape without running.

“You knew who I was when we started this, better than I knew who you were,” she reminded him. Her throat closed when he didn’t answer, only running a hand through his hair, rocking onto his toes as if he was physically restraining himself from stepping farther away. “Are you...is this the end?”

He spun to face her, eyes wide. “ _No_ , Laz. _Never_. It’s just...hard. Harder than I thought it would be.” He sat again with a sigh and gathered her in his arms. She wrapped hers around his waist, feeling only a slight twinge from her belly. SAM was working fast, or she’d been out longer than she’d thought, or both. 

She understood where he was coming from; the man was a naturally cautious control freak who worked from the shadows, in love with a reckless Pathfinder who was all too often both in the spotlight and in danger. She didn’t know what to say to make it better though; she certainly wasn’t going to change for him or anyone else. 

After a minute he sighed once more. “Showing myself to be the model gentleman yet again. You’re the one who was hurt. How are you feeling?” He pulled back to look at her, all charming Reyes again, if a bit more tender than usual around the edges. She smiled, as glad that he was back to himself as she was that he wasn’t going to run. 

“Better. Especially now that I’ve eaten. Thanks.” 

“Good. Maybe now I can sleep,” he said, flopping down next to her on the bed and pulling his boots off, tossing them carelessly to the floor with an unusual lack of tidiness.

“You haven’t been sleeping?”

His golden eyes caught hers, briefly shadowed once again with residual pain. “I had to make sure you’d be okay,” he said softly, pain in his voice as well. Then he grinned, looking a bit forced but determined to push aside whatever fears had been preying on him the last few days. “Now finish your food and drink your water so we can take a nap, _mi amor_.”

She did as he said, then snuggled into his embrace. His strong arms held her close and he made a satisfied noise. Ryder lay listening to his deep, steady breathing for a while, until sleep claimed her as well.


	10. Jackal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder returns from the Archon's ship. Reyes is _not_ happy with what she tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, fluff, and smut.
> 
> Separately, I really appreciate all the comments posted on the previous chapter! I was really worried about that one so the feedback meant a lot. Thank you all for continuing to follow the story. Almost halfway through now!

“You _what?!_ ” Reyes exploded, leaping to his feet. They were on the sofa in her quarters on the Tempest, on Kadara, Ryder having come straight here after the mission to the Archon’s ship. After everything that had happened, everything she’d witnessed, she needed the comfort of his arms. But he’d asked what had happened first, reading something in her face or her body language that put him on edge. 

“Ummm...well, I died,” she repeated, still going for lighthearted. After his reaction to her being stabbed on Elaaden, she’d known this wouldn’t go over well. That still hadn’t prepared her for this. 

He advanced on her, the Charlatan blinking into his eyes faster than she’d ever seen. “Run that past me again,” he said flatly. “Everything. Leave nothing out.”

***  
**Earlier…**

The immobilizing energy field flashing up around her squad was the latest shitty surprise in a day full of surprises. Finding the salarian ark tethered to the Archon’s ship. Discovering the kett’s experiments on live salarian captives. Now this.

The Archon himself strode towards them, talking shit that Ryder threw straight back in his face, determined to be defiant to the end. Trying to get him angry enough to kill her quickly. _Forgive me, Reyes,_ she thought, knowing how much it would hurt him when he found out she was dead. Not only dead but experimented on, destroyed. She’d fight this, but there was no doubt in her mind that the Archon would dispose of her once he’d dissected her, just as he had done with the salarians.

It wouldn’t be a quick death despite her provocations, that much was clear as soon as he roughly grasped her by the throat and turned her head, jabbing her with a long needle. It hurt, badly, and she gritted her teeth, determined not to cry out as something crawled into her bloodstream.

He’d been called away, apparently distracted by an explosion. Probably Raeka’s team. This was their chance. 

SAM had a suggestion. “The containment fields only interact with living matter. If you expire, the field around you will extinguish until manually reset.” _Fuck_. Reyes would like this even less than she did, but there were no other options. 

As her heart slowed, memories flashed through her mind. Then, as everything went dark, Reyes again. Only it wasn’t him - it was the jackal-headed god of the dead from whom he took his callsign. _Anubis...is my heart worthy?_

Everything stopped.

And then it all rushed back again as SAM restarted her heart. She sat up gasping and staggered over to the console to free Drack and Vetra. They made their way through a maintenance shaft, salarian screams echoing down the shaft urging them to greater speed. _We have to get out of here. We have to put an end to this, even if it means killing the captives_. It was the mission to rescue the Moshae all over again. _Will I ever be able to save the captives?_ The artifact that would lead them to Meridian had to come first. 

She slowed only to scan every pod she came across, hoping the data could be used to provide closure for at least some of the families who would wake up to grief and loss. “Is this kind of evil universal?” Vetra asked, sounding shaken. “First the Milky Way, now here?” 

“One thing I know for sure: evil bleeds. Let’s make sure it hurts, too,” Drack replied. Ryder said nothing, pushing forward. 

A growl in the darkness precipitated a wraith attack. She stumbled back, blasting it with her flamethrower. She jumped when Raeka radioed to say that some of the salarians were still alive. That was good news, considering they’d just come across the wraith-savaged body of a salarian escapee. Ryder was beginning to think it was hopeless. They pushed forward. Hayjer had the EMP primed. They were waiting on her. Where was the artifact?

The squad made its way to a large, empty antechamber. The room beyond though...that room was filled with more horrors. Salarians and even a krogan hung suspended in a glowing green fluid, showing various stages of genetic destruction as the kett obviously worked toward honing the process of “exalting” the Milky Way species. 

“I’m really starting to hate these guys,” Ryder muttered, sickened.

“Get in line,” Drack growled. 

They entered the last room. Finally, the Archon’s chambers. Vetra wondered aloud about the Archon’s obsession with the Remnant. Ryder didn’t care - she just knew they had to beat him to Meridian. Whatever he wanted this badly, he couldn’t be allowed to have. 

Finally, at the back of the room, they found it. Holding her hand up to the device the way she’d seen Alec do on Habitat 7, she accessed it. The three-pointed sigil came alive, mapping the way. “Coordinates secured, Pathfinder.”

“So that’s what you’re after.”

Ryder whirled at the sound of the Archon’s hated voice, wondering how he’d snuck up on her when she realized it was just a holo. She was struck cold when the Archon revealed his knowledge of SAM. They had to get out of here. He couldn't have SAM. “Captain, fire the EMP!” she ordered Hayjer.

A crackle of lightning swarmed over the ship...and then a roar as the exalted krogan behemoth was freed from its tank and came at them, the sight enough to make even Drack say, “Aw, shit.”

They took it down, and the kett reinforcements, then were faced with a hard choice. Save the krogan scouts, or the salarian Pathfinder?

In Ryder’s mind, it came down to numbers. They’d just saved an entire ark of salarians. The krogan had no ark of their own and would need every member of their species to have a chance at making it in Heleus. 

“Reload. We have to save the scouts.” Her heart was heavy at leaving Raeka behind, especially after she’d helped save them earlier, but she tried to take a page from Reyes' book and push the feeling aside. Her job was to make the hard choices. Every time. 

***

“So here we are. Only...the kett stole memories from me. When I...died. They might know about you now. And they want SAM.” He flinched slightly when she said the word “died”, even as the Charlatan. Stared at her for long moments without speaking before turning and walking out.

_What the hell?_ “Reyes!” she shouted after him. She heard a clanging in the galley, a crashing noise as if something - more crashes - _multiple_ somethings were being hurled to the floor. She stuck her head out of her quarters, peeking around the corner to see him leaning over the table, gripping the edges so hard his arms were shaking. His hair had fallen over his face. The counter and half the cabinets were emptied, the items strewn about. He was breathing hard, in through the nose, out through the mouth. “Reyes?” she queried softly. He didn’t look at her. Ryder was suddenly glad she’d banished everyone from the ship before calling him, even though it was sure to raise suspicion if anyone noticed the entire crew of the Tempest in port with neither the Pathfinder nor Reyes Vidal anywhere to be found. This was too important, though, and she wanted the control and comfort of having the conversation on her own ground.

“Where do you keep the whiskey?” he finally asked in a low voice. She dashed back into her room, shaken by his loss of composure, and fetched the bottle. This probably wasn’t the best idea, but he was usually a sultry, horny drunk at best and a quietly brooding one at worst. One she could fuck to distraction, the other she could wait out. Returning to the galley, she extended the bottle to him from the door. Whatever this was, she wasn’t about to get in his space. 

He took the bottle, opened it, and drank straight from it, a generous gulp, then a second, before putting it on the table. “You can come in. I would never hurt you,” he said, still in that quiet voice. He seemed calmer, at least. She slipped into the room, staying out of his reach. She believed him, but she’d never seen him like this and wasn’t sure if it was better to come close or give him space. 

When he looked up, his eyes were haunted. He must have had to let go of the Charlatan to have this...fit. Ryder swallowed. It looked like he'd run through every could-have-been and almost-happened in his mind in the minutes since he'd walked out, and was deeply shaken. “It was the only way, Reyes.”

“I understand that. But I don’t have to like it.” He straightened, turning towards her and combing his hair back with trembling fingers. “Come here,” he demanded. She searched his face and saw he needed her as much as she did him in that moment. Relieved that he was only taking the edge off rather than getting drunk, she went to him. His arms went around her, held her so tightly she thought her heart would stop again, until he stopped shaking. She let him do it. They both needed it. 

“I kept my promise,” Ryder offered weakly when he released her. “I came back to you.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “So you did.” He tipped her head back with his fingers and his lips moved to hers. He claimed her mouth passionately, tasting of the whiskey he’d just drunk. “Now I need to make sure you’ve been fully resuscitated,” he said with heat in his gaze. Ryder’s need for him flared to life, and she nodded. He swung her around, lifting her to sit on the table and pulling her hips into his. 

Whether it was dying or just the stress of the last few days, every single one of her nerves flared to life at his touch. Her body felt on fire with want. She whimpered, the noise bringing out the jackal in him, the predator. He grasped the hair at the back of her head and pulled, forcing her to bare her throat to him. She whined and writhed against him as he kissed the pulse points in her throat. 

“Mmm...there’s a heartbeat…” Not releasing her hair he snaked a hand up her shirt and pinched a nipple, hard. She gasped and arched back further, forced to stay there when he held her head in its new position. “And there’s breathing. I’ll need to do a few more tests.” Ryder moaned, realizing that he was going to punish her for scaring him. But if the punishment was great sex rather than him walking out, she was more than happy to accept it.

He stepped back, leveraged his grip on her hair to stand her up and turn her around. Pulled off first her jacket, then the scarf from her neck, then her shirt and bra. Using the scarf, he bound her wrists behind her. 

“Any objections?” he whispered in her ear, his hands coming around her to pinch her nipples again.

She groaned and arched back against him. “No...but please, Reyes, don't tease today. I need you.” 

“You remember your safe word?” 

Again she groaned, knowing that meant she was in for a good deal of frustration before he'd give her what she wanted, and said it. As badly as she wanted him _right now_ , she was also tired of making decisions and wanted to feel like someone else was in control. He'd give her that, as much as she could handle. “Good,” he growled, voice rough with lust. 

His hands caressed down her flanks and unbuttoned her trousers, forcing them down roughly before grasping the back of her neck and bending her over the table. The metal was cold against her nipples, but his fingers were warm when they plunged into her. She tried to buck upwards with a wordless shout, but his hand tightened, keeping her down as his fingers slid in and out. “Reyes, fuck me!” she begged when he showed no sign of stopping. Fingers were not going to cut it today, as good as they felt. 

“Hmm...warm and responsive. It seems you _are_ alive, Ryder.” His fingers were gone for a second, replaced by his cock plunging all the way into her. She screamed his name in surprise, wondering why he’d give her this so soon when he was clearly in the mood to tease and punish. 

Sure enough, right as she was on the brink of orgasm, he withdrew. “You’re not _coming_ back from the dead that easily, _mi amor_ ,” he purred. Frustrated, she fought the scarf binding her wrists, fought the hand pressing her into the table and the trousers caught around her ankles. “Dammit!” she shouted when he leaned into her, his weight easily keeping her down. He laughed, a low, pleased chuckle that slithered down her spine.

“More of that and I'll gag you as well,” he threatened, using the grip on her neck to haul her upright before throwing her easily over his shoulder and striding into her quarters. "For now, I feel like hearing you beg." She yelped when he dropped her onto the bed, shifted to her knees. “Stay there,” he ordered, pointing at her, golden eyes fierce, “or you’ll wait even longer than you already will be.” Ryder buried her face in the sheets and made a noise of frustration, but stayed where she was. 

At the sound of cloth shifting, she lifted her head to watch him undress with painful slowness. His boots and already open trousers went first. She licked her lips at the sight of his cock, bobbing with the fullness of his erection and glistening with her fluids. His ass clenched as he thrust himself toward her, teasing, pulling back when she leaned forward to take him in her mouth. He stroked himself firmly, watching her pant with the desire to touch him, before sliding his hands up his body. His shirt rose with them, revealing his toned stomach. Ryder quivered in her efforts to stay where she was, wanting to feel him, to goad him into making her come, but knowing he'd draw her punishment out even longer if she did.

He whipped his shirt over his head, then over hers, twisting it so that she was hooded. She gasped in surprise. “Anything you want to say?” whispered his voice in her ear.

“SAM, privacy mode,” she ordered, muffled by the shirt. His scent was in her nose as she breathed in, a hint of cologne overlaying the manly smell of him. “Reyes...fuck me.” Another dark chuckle raised goosebumps. “Oh, I will. But first I’ll make sure you're all in one piece, the way I remember. And I want you to beg.” He pulled her head back until she lay flat on the bed and tucked a pillow under her hips. 

When his tongue lapped at her lower lips she shuddered, wanting him more than ever. He spread her wider with the fingers of one hand, probing into her with the fingers of the other. She felt her orgasm rising, couldn't stop herself from begging him to let her come even knowing another denial was coming. 

He kept going, only to disappear in the moment before it started rolling over her. She spent a moment writhing and gasping, frustrated beyond belief before he started working her again. Nipples, neck, thighs, clit, all stimulated with his tongue, teeth, lips, and fingers until she teetered on the edge, pleading with him again, hoping it worked this time...and again he withdrew before letting her finish. She sobbed, every nerve tingling, every cell of her desperate for completion with him.

Her boots and trousers were stripped off, and then the shirt came off suddenly, tugged roughly from her head. She looked up at him, sucking in fresh air, eyes teared. He smirked at her, leaned over to kiss her. “Definitely looking alive, Pathfinder. A bit of a mess, but alive,” he breathed against her mouth. She bit his lip in frustration, and he grasped her chin, giving her a little shake. “You want something in your mouth?” He hauled her up against the headboard, kneeling with knees on either side of her and his cock brushing her lips. She was completely penned in, and with her arms bound behind her, at his mercy. 

“Open,” he commanded. She obeyed, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. “Good girl,” he purred, pushing into her mouth to the back of her throat. Grasping the headboard, he thrust into her slowly but deeply, waiting for her to squirm before withdrawing, giving her just enough time to gasp a breath and a chance to say her safeword before he was back. She took him in, turned on by his dominance and determined to outlast him at this game...or was until he leaned back and started playing with her clit with one hand. Then she was trying to beg between thrusts as she writhed, trying to create enough friction to find her orgasm. He toyed with her, the thrusts of his cock punctuated by rubs to her sex. 

Once again, she was almost there when he stopped, scooting back enough to pull her up, reach behind her and undo the scarf. “Now,” he said, grasping her chin to kiss her again, roughly, “what do you want to do to me?”

Finally freed of restraints, she tried to launch herself at him, tried to force him down onto the bed, but he wasn't having it. If either of them had had any doubt that she was alive, those doubts were quickly put to rest. They wrestled, kissing, biting, each trying to master the other, until he lay against the headboard, pinned by her but holding her wrists behind her back. 

Ryder didn't care that their wrestling ended in a draw; she just wanted him inside her. Maneuvering as best she could, she lifted herself and carefully pressed down on him until he was fully sheathed in her. Then her rhythm sped up as her desperation took over. He released her wrists and grabbed her hips, thrusting up as hard as she was coming down, until she screamed as he roared, both of them climaxing as one. He marked her, low on the neck, as was his habit when she'd come back from a hard fight. Any chance of losing her always had him feeling possessive, rather than just protective. Secretly, she loved it, loved the feeling that someone wanted her that much.

She collapsed forward onto him, shaking. Her only regret when SAM had stopped her heart had been not making more time for this man. He held her to him, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other running up and down her spine. She went boneless, exhausted and soothed by him, grateful to have more time together.

“Don't die on me again,” Reyes whispered, the words almost too quiet to hear and as close to a plea as she'd ever heard from him. “It was hard enough when you were stabbed and dying but I could _do_ something. For you to come back and tell me you were dead, that if SAM hadn't been there you'd be -” he cut off, shuddering beneath her. “I need you to come back to me.” 

Ryder tightened weary limbs around him and turned her head to kiss his cheek. “You promised me something to come back to. How could I not?”

He took her head in both hands and kissed her deeply, then shifted them to roll onto their sides, facing each other. They started falling asleep, limbs still entangled, both exhausted - her from coming back from the dead, him from being worried sick and pretending all was well as he carried on with business as usual.

“Reyes,” Ryder murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Why do we always end up in bed?”

Eyes closed and more unconscious than awake, he smirked, somehow managing to look adorable and roguish at the same time. “Because I'm such a handsome bastard?” he suggested, slurring his words a little with sleep. Ryder snorted and stroked a strand of hair from his face, thinking she wouldn't mind spending the rest of her life falling asleep next to this handsome bastard. She just had to find Meridian and defeat the kett, first. And maybe quit the Nexus...if she could take SAM with her somehow. Come to think of it, it might be easier to get the Nexus to take the exiles back. Something to think about.

Anyway, she'd already come back from being dead twice. How hard could the rest of her to-do list be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Reyes. When he loses it, he really loses it...but he wouldn't hurt our Ryder :).


	11. Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder is barely back from the Archon's mission when a mysterious anti-AI group tries to hack SAM. Reyes sees a chance to remind her that she's got a place on Kadara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More thanks to the readers! You rock and I love you. 
> 
> Some smut in this one, and Reyes being a bit of a cheeky bastard.

Strolling through Kadara Port’s markets was always illuminating. Reyes wasn't shopping for anything today, only wandering, keeping his ears open for rumors. Any mention of the Charlatan, the Pathfinder, or the Outcasts had him lingering at a stall, pretending to consider a purchase as he collected intel. Although he generally wasn’t a morning person and had people who did this for him, it was always worth it to get out and verify the truth of the reports, see if his people had missed anything, keep them honest.

People were still wondering who the Charlatan was, but less urgently now that Sloane was gone and conditions in port were improving. It turned out that most people didn’t care who was in charge as long as there was work available and their families weren’t being banished to the badlands. Keema was viewed positively, especially by the angara, so their arrangement was working out nicely. The Outcasts were largely spat upon as bullies and thugs. 

The Pathfinder's actions to bring stability to Heleus in general and Kadara, in particular, were appreciated, although some were beginning to whisper that she was in league with the Charlatan, that her information broker was their go-between. That last rumor was a little troubling because it meant they'd been observed spending too much time together, but it wasn't touching on the truth just yet. He smirked briefly as he pretended to examine a rifle mod, congratulating himself on the unthinkable double coup of not only winning the Pathfinder as his ally but taking her as his woman as well. That revelation would have to be carefully managed, and he had a feeling he was running out of time if he wanted to maintain control over how it got out and how both he and Ryder were impacted. 

Reyes continued to wander, mulling it over with half a mind. When his omnitool trilled with Ryder's tone it was a welcome distraction, especially since she was on light duty until Lexi was sure she'd recovered from her death. The woman would probably still manage to find trouble but was apparently out collecting “memory triggers”, whatever those were, while the kett were licking their wounds. Something to do with SAM and her father, if he understood correctly.

He answered the call after stepping into an alley and making sure he was alone. “Ryder! I was just thinking about you.” He grinned at her hiss; he’d known she’d recognize the line he’d used when he invited her to Sloane’s party. “I’d love to hear more...but even though this is a private channel, I’m calling on business, love.” 

She’d never called him “love” before, or any other pet name for that matter. He’d begun to think it wasn’t a thing for her and puffed up slightly. He didn’t _need_ to hear the word from her - hell, he was terrible at offering it in English, at least - but it was always _nice_. “Business? Well, if you need someone specializing in smuggling, thievery, and murder, I’m your guy. I’ve also recently expanded into stud services, for the right price…” 

She laughed, the light sound bringing a smile to his face. As dark as he could be, _he_ made her make that sound. _He_ brought that brightness from her, and it gave him hope for himself. When she’d caught her breath, she said, “It was your services as an information broker I was going to ask about. You know, the official reason why we spend so much time together?” He could hear her smirk over the comm channel. 

“Oh right, that.” This would be interesting. Ryder had access to information from the highest levels on the Nexus and usually only asked him for information off the record. He shifted into business mode. “What do you need to know?”

“Someone tried to take out SAM with a virus, specially targeted to AIs and hidden in a mathematical algorithm.” He tensed, immediately alarmed. SAM was the only reason she was still alive, three times over. Her father’s initial transfer of SAM to her had saved her life on Habitat 7, he’d slowed her bodily functions enough to allow her to survive the stab wound and poisoning on Elaaden, and he’d stopped her heart to enable her to escape the Archon, bringing her back to life once she was free. 

Then there were the indirect benefits he brought her; he’d seen her in combat and as good as she was, the AI had given her the edge in countless situations. SAM was also his staunchest supporter on the Tempest, having told him once that she was most relaxed, and therefore most open to the AI’s healing capabilities, after being intimate with him. Losing SAM would be catastrophic, not only for Ryder’s long-term survival but also for his personal plans for their future and the Charlatan’s plans for her role in ruling Kadara.

Ryder continued. “I pretended that SAM is dead, and have been invited for a face-to-face on Kadara. I need to try and get to the bottom of this.” _Clever girl_ , he thought with admiration as Ryder got to her request. “Can you look for any information on someone called ‘Knight’? They’ll have advanced knowledge of artificial intelligence and likely quantum computing. The message I got on the Nexus is that they’re out to kill all use of AI in Heleus. Aside from SAM, that would also take out most of the functions the Nexus relies on to keep everything running and everyone alive.”

Reyes thought quickly. While he wasn’t a supporter of the Initiative, losing the Nexus would likely create chaos. In chaos lay opportunity...but he wasn’t in a position to take advantage of it yet and it would lose him a solid source of income smuggling goods between the station and the exiles. That, combined with the effect on Ryder of losing SAM, would mean unacceptable consequences. He concluded it was in his interest to help beyond wanting to keep Ryder happy, but he hadn’t heard of any Knight, nor of any anti-AI sentiments before leaving the Nexus. It was something to add to his watchlist.

“I’ll do some digging,” he promised. “When are you arriving?” 

“ETA four hours, just after midday Kadara Standard Time. And Reyes - I’ll pay you out of the Nexus’ budget for any info you find. This affects them, too.” 

Normally he didn’t accept payment from her, considering his usefulness a part of keeping her interest, but he did have expenses and if it was something for the Nexus… “If you insist, Pathfinder.”

“Oh, I do, Mr Vidal. Can’t have it looking like I’m paying some other way when I file my official report, after all. That would be...unprofessional,” she breathed, sounding very much like she’d enjoy paying for her information in an entirely inappropriate manner.

He chuckled. He’d fucked the Pathfinder into incoherence on several occasions now, tied her up, made her beg for him. She was the Initiative’s shining star, but she submitted to _him_ , on command, whenever he demanded. While he preferred credits he wasn’t above taking sexual favors for payment, and when the favor was granted by someone with the power of an Initiative Pathfinder, he cheerfully collected. Especially given that he’d committed himself to her, and it worked toward his larger goals. But if she had credits to burn, he wouldn’t mind benefitting twice over.

“Of course, Pathfinder. Let me know if you’re available to meet in person while you're on Kadara,” he purred. 

“Always do.” She closed the channel, leaving him leaning against the wall torn between lust, business, and mild anxiety. As much as he loved her, he had a feeling she was going to be the death of him. He’d never met anyone so capable of finding trouble or inclined to look for it to begin with.

***

Reyes made sure he was idling around the docks when the Tempest landed, knowing that she’d head straight out on her mission but unable to talk himself out of an opportunity to see her. His pulse surged to see her striding off the Tempest, armed, armored, and confident despite her recent brushes with death. It seemed like the only thing able to keep her down was him. His hand on the back of her neck, forcing her to bend over the table as he yanked her trousers off and...

_Focus, Vidal_ , he reprimanded himself, shaking off the memory of the last time he was on the Tempest. Still, he couldn’t help but fall in step behind her squad. She had Peebee and Vetra with her today; he assumed because she trusted Vetra with her life and wanted Peebee’s input on whatever this computing mystery was. 

When they reached the lift down to the slums, Ryder punched the button to call it and then spun with her pistol leveled. Reyes grinned into the barrel of it, trusting her to recognize him in time not to shoot.

“ _Fuck_ , Vidal, you should know better than to try sneaking up on me!” The gun was raised as Peebee and Vetra jumped, then looked at each other slightly shamefaced. Apparently, they’d missed his presence entirely. That was satisfying. It took a superhuman awareness to catch wind of him. 

“Hello to you, too, Pathfinder,” he greeted her in sultry tones. “Going down?”

Her pupils widened in a flash and she bit her lip, a gesture that usually meant she was nervously deep in thought but had recently started occurring when she was thinking about sucking him off. Vetra looked skyward with a pained groan and Peebee smirked, glancing between them. “Out to the badlands,” Ryder dodged, hearing the real question but prudish as ever in front of her squad.

“Hmmm,” he mused, looking her up and down with a slowness intended to convey his imagining her naked. “Stop by Tartarus later. We can compare notes on that project you asked me about earlier. I came up with a few names to keep an eye on.”

“Sure.”

The lift arrived and he made sure to stand closer to her than was strictly necessary, enjoying the way she fidgeted in front of him. By the time they reached the slums she was properly riled by the combination of his nearness and being unable to do anything practical about it, and trying desperately to hide it. Vetra and Peebee were equally aware of her state and trying desperately to ignore it, although Peebee had cracked and started to giggle by the time they reached the bottom. 

He brushed past her as he exited the lift, turning towards Tartarus. “Until later, _nena_.”

“ _Fuck you_ , Vidal.”

He turned, raising one eyebrow in a look that suggested all things were possible before throwing her a wink. “ _That_ can be arranged,” he growled seductively, enjoying Ryder’s look of hunger as much as her squad’s carefully blank faces. There were definitely a few perks to keeping their relationship under wraps. Being able to tease her in public with impunity was one of them.

***

“I don’t have much time,” she said as she blew into his private room later. She was already stripping off armor, letting it clang carelessly to the floor. He watched her come, anticipation making him hard. “I have to get to the Nexus, but…” 

As the last piece of armor dropped she pounced, straddling him on the couch. “Fuck me,” she demanded, grinding against him. After a long day of sifting through intel Reyes was more than happy to oblige, spinning them sideways and pressing her into the couch. He grasped the back of her head to devour her with a kiss, using the other hand to dive into her open underarmor. _Wet already, you little minx_ , he thought with pleasure as he ripped the suit the rest of the way off and undid his own trousers. She moaned and reached for him, stroking him twice to make sure he was hard enough before guiding him into her. 

Usually, he took his time with her, gaining pleasure from the range of sounds she made as he teased and manipulated her body, but today it was all about speed. He used the quick and dirty tricks he’d learned over the years, especially those he knew stimulated her, and she shuddered in his arms in minutes. Redoubling his efforts, he brought her again before succumbing to his own pleasure, biting her breast hard enough to leave teeth marks. She gasped and arched up into him as he pumped his last thrusts into her and pulled away. 

She sprawled half on, half off the couch, one knee up against the back, one arm on his thigh, the other arm and leg dangling off the edge. Her throat was bared along with her pussy and she panted, tits pointed to the sky, making the most delicious little noises as she sought to reassert her logical mind over her passionate body. He loved seeing her like this: completely undone, vulnerable, and most importantly, _his_. 

Too quickly for his liking, she took a deep breath and pushed herself up. Her lips met his firmly as she pressed into him almost hard enough to bowl him over, and he held her close. After a moment she pulled away, reluctance in every line of her body. “I have to go,” she murmured. “Before they realize I got the details of their plans. I’ll send you the info. It could be useful if something ever happened to SAM.” 

Reyes kissed her again. “Anything I can do to help, _mi amor_.” 

She smirked. “You’ve _helped _quite a bit today. Send me your list of names in case Katherine Nigh isn’t the only one I need to keep an eye on.” Standing, she wiggled back into her underarmor in a way that made him want to strip it right back off of her, then started collecting and applying the pieces of armor scattered around the room. He leaned back on the couch, idly handling his cock as he watched her. _One day, you’ll be all mine_ , he promised himself, stirred slightly by the thought. __

____

____

She turned to look at him as the door opened, winked cheekily. “Until next time, Vidal.” Her usually confident stride had an extra swing to it as she left, the sway of a well-fucked woman.

_Damn_ , he loved her. 

His omnitool pinged. Kian. He answered it. “Vidal, whatever you’re giving the Pathfinder, you’d better tone it down if you don’t want people to talk,” the bartender scolded in a low voice, barely discernable over the throbbing music of the club. “Every eye attached to a body attracted to females was on her when she left, and she looked proper ready to fuck.”

Reyes laughed. “They’re welcome to try. It’ll be a toss-up who cuts their balls off first. She’s mine, and she knows it. Besides, everyone knows I'm a terrible flirt. Can you blame the woman?” Kian made a disgusted noise and ended the call. Smirking, Reyes poured a glass of whiskey and settled in for a long night of poring over the data the Pathfinder had transferred over about Knight and her mysterious anti-AI group. 

*** 

It was another day before he heard from Ryder again. She sounded tired, not just physically, but the I’m-so-over-it tired of someone pushed past their emotional limits. “I stopped the plot,” she sighed. Reyes wondered why she didn’t sound happier at her success, but the answer came in her next sentences. “It wasn’t just the EMPs Knight had planted around Operations. I...had to order the sniper shot that killed her. I stood there, looking into her eyes, and made the signal. She was so angry...” Ryder trailed off into a heavy silence. 

While Reyes was long accustomed to and accepting of the burden of ordering someone killed outside of battle, Ryder clearly was not. He considered his next words carefully. “Was there any other choice?” 

A heavy sigh. “I don’t know. One of her devices went off in Hydroponics and caused chaos. She had another in her hand. I guess not. I just wish...I wish there had been another way. She came here to escape some rogue project called Overlord. Genuinely thought she was helping people. Am I really helping people?” 

_Am I?_ Reyes wondered, hoping that Ryder wasn’t thinking along the same lines. He'd murdered people and generally did whatever else he thought necessary for the good of Kadara. For now, he had Ryder’s blessing - and his own life - because she loved him, a fact he knew colored her decisions about him whether she wanted it to or not. Would it be him she put down one day? What could he do to prevent it? He suspected he knew: keep being useful, keep her feeling steady, and keep giving her a sense of personal freedom. 

“You’re helping, _mi amor_. Never doubt that.” 

“Am I though? Her son sent a message accusing me of executing her in the street. He’s gunning for me now. The Archon wants SAM, and Knight said...she said I’m the beginning of the end. And I know that without SAM, I’d be just another fuck-up. No, I wouldn’t even be that. I’d be _dead_ , Reyes. I -” 

Her words almost tripped over each other and the harsh panting as she broke off her sentence was worrying, sounding like a panic attack. “Hey! That’s enough,” he ordered, the edge of the Charlatan in the command. He filed the threat against her away for later, focusing on calming her now. “Listen to me. What can we use from this?” 

The only sound for long moments was her struggles to master her breathing. “Knight nearly succeeded in shutting SAM down. Whatever she did isolated him in SAM node and required a manual reset. Maybe…” she trailed off, thinking. Reyes stayed silent, waiting for her to see the opportunity he’d already sensed. “SAM, privacy mode. No logs.” She paused a moment longer, presumably receiving confirmation in her head that he was gone. “Reyes...what if we could modify the virus? Use it to transfer him somewhere else, rather than killing him?” 

_That’s my girl_ , Reyes thought. “What would you need?” he asked aloud. 

“Someone really good with artificial intelligence and some kind of quantum computer, to start. But I don’t even know where we’d find them in Andromeda, other than the Nexus, or where we could store the computer securely.” 

“It’s a good thing I’m an excellent procurement specialist,” he said slyly. She didn’t respond immediately, and he could see her in his mind’s eye, chewing on her lip, deep in nervous thought. Again Reyes held his tongue, knowing that this idea needed to come fully-formed from her, or she’d doubt and blame him if things went wrong later. He’d support her, but he wouldn’t try to lead her in this. 

“Don’t do anything for now,” she finally sighed. “I just...really need to feel like I have a way out.” 

“Understood. And Ryder - you always have a place here.” 

“Thanks, Reyes.” Her voice was soft, and he wanted her with him. Not even to fuck her, although he always wanted that, but because she’d been pushing herself hard for as long as he’d known her and the hits just kept coming. Literally, for the most part. She needed a break.

The words left him before he’d fully considered them. “Come to Kadara. Take a few days to rest instead of just an evening. Get your strength up before hunting down this Meridian thing.” 

“Just to rest?” she asked impishly. He laughed. “We don’t have to leave the bed if you don’t want to,” he purred, voice practically dripping sex. She _hmmm_ ed. “You know what, Reyes? I’m going to take you up on that. There are other Pathfinders in the field now, and the kett are quiet. I don’t have to do every damn thing myself. Give me a couple of days to put things on hold.” 

He had no idea what they’d do or where they’d go, but he was thrilled at the idea of having her all to himself for that long. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K was originally going to be "Kadara," but then I stumbled across the Knight mission in my playthrough and it seemed to fit. Most of the original thoughts for Kadara are being rolled over into the next chapter: Lovers. Who's ready for fluff?


	12. Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before Ryder's extended visit Reyes drunkenly confesses the extent of his love for the Pathfinder to Keema, after a little prying. As it turns out, that's nothing compared to what happens the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extended chapter. Extra fluffy. A little smut. Some angst/TW as Reyes shares some of his childhood with Ryder (which you may remember from Ch 6: Fighter).

It was a rare occasion when Reyes Vidal managed to get drunk enough to talk about his feelings. Partly because he carefully stuck to his three-drink limit when he was working - which was almost all the time these days - and partly because he had a prodigious ability to hold his liquor after spending too much time getting shitfaced with krogans back in the Milky Way. 

Under normal circumstances, he would have been fine, but Keema had stocked something extra strong from Aya for this party. Then introduced him to a new krogan buyer who refused to do business until they'd had a proper drinking contest. Normally he’d have talked his way out of it, stuck to his limit, but it had been a rough few weeks and he figured he could allow himself a break. Ryder was arriving tomorrow, and he’d already made arrangements for Keema, Kian, and his lieutenants to take over Collective business from yesterday so that the Charlatan’s absence wouldn’t be directly correlated with the Pathfinder’s arrival. Today he was working just for himself, and tonight work demanded sacrifice.

He'd lost the contest, of course. His usual caution was gone after the sixth drink. After the eighth, his competitive streak wouldn't let him quit until he'd been drunk quite literally under the table. On the upside, it was a close contest and he'd won the deal. He thought. Everything was a bit fuzzy now that the party had wound down and he was sprawled across the couch in Keema’s private reception room off the main throne chamber.

“You tricked me,” he accused her, not really believing it but trying to avoid whatever thought had Keema smirking. Being angara, the thought wouldn’t stay in her head for long and he was sure it spelled trouble for him. He squinted out of one eye to avoid seeing two of her and took a sip from his glass of water, wondering if he could sober up before she made a fool of him somehow. 

She grinned, nowhere near as drunk, at all. “I didn’t, but keep telling yourself that. While you are drunk though, we need to talk about the Pathfinder.”

He tried to be annoyed with his friend. He’d known she’d take advantage of his current state to pry something out of him - credits or information - but he hadn’t expected this. The thought of Ryder quickly overrode annoyance and made him grin foolishly. 

“There! That's what I'm talking about! Why can't you show that sober?”

He schooled his face into a more neutral expression and kicked his feet up to recline on the couch, one arm over his face and the one holding his glass of water on the floor. “Is _dangerous_ , Keema, you know that. If someone found out…” he trailed off, already planning what he’d do to the person who hurt her to get to him. Something painful. And deadly. 

“You’re being silly. _Nobody knows who you really are_. They see a smuggler and information broker who flirts shamelessly with the Pathfinder. Stars and skies, half the port thinks _I’m_ the Charlatan, and more than that already thinks you’re fucking the woman. What’s the Initiative going to do, fire her? They need her too much. She’s young and heroic; if there’s a problem they’ll mark it up as inexperienced stupidity. You might even become a hero yourself, depending on how you spin it.”

Reyes made a non-committal noise and sipped from his glass. He might be drunk, but he was not going to do this. 

“Do you love her?” Keema asked.

Fuck. He was going to do this. Because the answer to her question was yes. He did, he really, really did. “Yes,” he echoed the thought aloud, feeling the smile return.

“How much?” she pressed him.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, “a lot?” _How do you even measure a thing like that?_ He hadn’t had much experience with love over his lifetime. His sister had loved him, but that was different. His father was a hateful man, his mother had died when he was young, and he’d kept a careful distance from sexual partners up to now, preferring to avoid getting attached. Ryder had defied all of his efforts to keep her at arm’s length, and now here he was. _Patas arriba_ , completely head over heels for the only woman who could possibly match him, and continually in a mild state of panic over what insanity on her part would get her killed next. Difficult as it was to do so, he’d given up trying to control her after trying to hide his identity as the Charlatan went royally tits-up. That had to be what love was.

Keema sighed, interrupting his thoughts. “A lot how? Enough to kill for her? Enough to die for her? What?”

He blew a breath out through his lips. “Already killed for her. Tortured the fucker first. He shouldn’t have stabbed her.” He frowned, brooding on that. She _seemed_ okay with what he’d done, but he just had to remember to _tell_ her next time. That was the tricky bit. He wasn’t used to sharing with people. Now he had a close friend, almost another sister, in Keema, and the love of his life in Ryder, and he was sharing a hell of a lot more of himself than he was accustomed to or strictly comfortable with. 

“And…?” she prompted.

What was this alcohol again? He _never_ got this drunk. Drunk, but not so shitface wasted that he was talking about _feelings_. More words poured out of him anyway. “And she’s everything, okay? She’s my chance at being a better man. She’s too good for me, but she’s _mine_. I _won_. I beat Sloane, and I won Ryder. And I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” He stopped, drifting into another brooding silence. His mouth was running away with him, giving new meaning to the name Shena. He was _never_ drinking that weird Ayan liquor again. Only whiskey. Safe whiskey, lovely whiskey. “My sister told me I’d know when I met the right person for me. Ryder’s it. She just has to save the galaxy first. And I have to save Kadara.” He sobered further. His older sister had been the only good thing in his childhood, protecting him as much as she could from their abusive father.

“Have you told her?” 

“Errrm…” _Does it count in Spanish? She knows, right?_ “She knows,” he asserted. Keema made a frustrated noise. “That is not what I asked. Reyes, you need to tell her directly! You need to open up about your feelings!”

“Fiiiine,” he drawled, wishing she would be quiet and that the room would stop spinning. “She’s coming for an extended break tomorrow. Maybe then.”

Keema perked up. “An extended break? Are you going to stay on the Tempest, then?”

“No. She needs a change of scenery. Spends too much time on that fucking ship.”

She scoffed. “Reyes, your idea of a living situation is to alternate between three different safehouses, your shuttle, and Tartarus. You need something more permanent if she’s going to be visiting for longer than a night.”

Reyes was not up to thinking about this just now. “The safehouse around the corner is fine.” He could feel Keema’s disapproving gaze. 

“It is _not_. The Pathfinder deserves better.”

Reyes flapped a hand, trying to get out of this conversation. “That’s why I took her out to the site I chose for the homestead. Gonna build her a house. A nice house. Or have it built. I’m a pilot, not a builder.”

“You impossible man!” Keema snapped. “A future is good, but she deserves better _right now_. Just because she’s young and besotted enough to accept what you’ve given her so far doesn’t mean she won’t come to her senses eventually.” The angara fell silent, waiting for his reply. He didn’t argue because she was right and it had been on his mind anyway, but he’d be damned if he told her that after giving away so much already. “If you won’t do something, I will,” she threatened. 

_Shit_. He sat up, glaring at her. “Don’t you meddle. You’ve already gone and made me chatter like a fool. Don’t make it worse by meddling.”

“I’m going to give Ryder an apartment here in headquarters,” she continued, ignoring him completely. “She’s here often enough, and clearly supports of the Collective as the main power in port.” 

Reyes felt his jaw drop open. Surely she wasn’t that stupid. “It will look like a bribe.”

Her sly smile said he’d walked straight into her trap. “Then I guess _you’ll_ have to accept it, won’t you?”

He threw himself back on the couch and downed the rest of his water, suddenly feeling the need to get sober, fast. “I hate you,” he muttered. She laughed at him, amused. “You shouldn’t lie about your feelings, either. Lying and suppression are both stunted ways to live.” She chuckled again at his glare and tapped at a datapad that had been laying on the table. “There. I’ve transferred you the unit number and the access codes. Your lieutenants are the only other people with access to that area of the building. Go on up and get some sleep. Your lady love will be here soon.” She stood and walked out, leaving him wondering how he’d been played so badly. He was drunk, he remembered. That’s how. The three-drink whiskey limit wouldn't have failed him if he'd stuck to it. 

Resigned and wanting more water, he finally stumbled upstairs to the living quarters, finding the apartment after a couple of tries and slipping inside. Even in his intoxicated state, he recognized that it was beautiful. The curved lines of angaran architecture were strange but not unpleasant, especially after months sleeping in blocky prefab units or his shuttle. The furnishings were largely black and grey - his preferred colors - with pops of accent color in the same teal shade of her favorite jacket. The sofa was wide enough for two to snuggle on comfortably, with scattered cushions. The bed was low enough that a tumble out of it wouldn’t hurt, with intriguing slotted metal bars on the headboard and footer. _I could tie her to those…_

Continuing his tour brought him to a bathroom largely dominated by a bath/shower combo clearly intended for two, bringing several thoughts to mind. The kitchen was simple but fully stocked. Plants, both potted and hanging in decorative containers, broke the monotony of built space. And the main window...he stood for a long moment looking out at the commanding view of the port, all the way to the docks. He felt the master of his domain in a way he never had in Tartarus or safehouses, and wondered whose quarters these had been when it was still Outcast HQ.

He felt humbled suddenly, grateful for the generosity of his friend and the love she had for both him and Ryder to offer them this oasis, a chance at stability for both of them. Still somewhat drunk and completely overwhelmed, he rang through to Keema. “Thank you,” he said simply. 

“You’re welcome. I like the Pathfinder, and she’s good for you, so don’t fuck things up with her.”

“I won’t,” he promised, and closed the channel. What would Ryder think? She was almost as emotionally-avoidant as he was; it was part of why they worked well together. Neither pushed the other for more emotional bandwidth than was comfortable. He turned the thought over in his mind as he opened all the cabinets, finally finding the glasses, and filled one with water.

After downing it, he made sure the doors were locked, changed the codes, and scanned the room for bugs. He knew he'd have to do it again when he was fully sober, but he wouldn't be able to sleep if he hadn't at least gone through the motions.

That done, Reyes stripped naked, set his pistol on the table, and settled on the couch, luxuriating in the softness of the blanket he pulled over himself. The bed was tempting, and so was a wank, but he wanted to save the satisfaction of both for when Ryder got here. 

_She'll like it_ , He decided, eyes drifting closed. _She liked the homestead. This will be our town house, and that our country house_. Keema was right. Ryder deserved this. And so did he.

***

The next morning was predictably painful. Groaning, Reyes pulled the blanket over his head, cursing Keema for the alcohol even as he thanked her for the nice place to wake up. Rolling onto his back, he flicked through reports from his lieutenants on his omnitool, pleased to see everything was in order. There was also a note from Ryder.

_< Reyes,_

_Arriving at 1500 KST. Should I bring anything?_  
_Really looking forward to this._

_Love,_  
_Ryder >_

Smirking, he tapped out a reply.

_< Only a change of clothes for the next few days. Or nothing. Perfectly happy to spend the time naked…_

_Meet me at Collective HQ. Keema arranged a surprise for both of us. Trust me, it’s a good one. I’ll be spending the hours until your arrival planning how to make the most use of it while you’re here. >_

There wasn’t much to plan, really. He just enjoyed thinking about fucking her on every surface of the apartment.

***

He was chatting with one of his lieutenants, an especially tall turian with slashes of red facial markings named Mantis Agorian, in the throne room when Ryder strolled in. A small bag was thrown over her shoulder and she scanned the room for him, careful to keep her face neutral when she spotted him even if her eyes sparkled. “Keema!” she greeted the angaran woman enthusiastically. Keema descended from her throne to offer an angaran handshake, touching fists to each other’s opposite shoulder, before pulling Ryder into a hug. “Pathfinder,” Keema returned warmly. “It’s good to see you again. Welcome back to Kadara.” 

“I’ll say it’s good to see her again,” muttered Mantis. Reyes glanced at him, feeling his blood start to rise at the lustful look the turian was directing at Ryder. _Easy, Vidal, he doesn’t know your true identity, or that the Pathfinder is your woman_ , he reminded himself as the urge to throttle the man rose. He schooled his face to neutrality as Mantis turned back to him. “Word is that you spend a lot of time with the Pathfinder on business for the boss. Ever think of taking her to bed?”

 _That_ was a safe enough question to answer, if a surprisingly direct one. “Every damn time I see her,” he admitted truthfully, falling into the one-of-the-boys routine. If Mantis was going to be a problem, he needed to know now.

Mantis clapped him on the shoulder. “If anyone was going to have a chance with her, it’d be you. Take one for the team and give it a shot, hey? Nobody else can get her attention and some of the boys have a pool going. I’ve already put my money on you.” 

Reyes let his face go hard. “I think the Charlatan would take it amiss if anything untoward were to happen to her. They’ve made it pretty clear that she’s not to be messed with.” The turian raised his hands and spread his mandibles in a gesture meant to indicate harmlessness. “Nobody’s talking about _messing_ with her, just, you know…” The mandibles waggled. “If she happened to be lonely and looking for companionship. Nothing harmful. Nobody wants to look like an Outcast.”

He nodded, making a mental note to send another reminder about the Pathfinder even as he wondered if he could use this to his advantage. If some rumors already had them together and even his lieutenants were rooting for him, coming out as lovers could be to his advantage. He’d discuss it with Ryder later. 

Shrugging, he said, “I do have orders to keep her happy, and if she’s willing I wouldn’t say no.” Mantis rubbed his hands together. “Good man. If you win her over, I’ll share the pot.”

 _Pay up_ , Reyes thought.

“Vidal!” Keema shouted. He looked over to see her gesturing, one arm shepherding Ryder into the adjoining room. 

He excused himself and followed, winking over his shoulder at the turian and receiving a nod in return. Inwardly, he was laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation: his subordinate, who didn’t realize he was speaking to his boss, challenging him to try bedding a woman he was already fucking. It was nice being the man with all the answers.

As soon as the door shut behind him, an armful of enthusiastic Pathfinder launched at him. “Ooof,” he said, bumping back against the door. Ryder smothered any further comment with a kiss. 

Keema was smiling broadly over Ryder’s shoulder when she pulled back to look at him. “You see, Reyes? _That_ is how you show emotion,” she teased. Ryder blushed but didn’t step away. 

“Does that mean you told her already?” Reyes asked. 

“Told me what?”

“No, I figured you could show her,” Keema replied.

“Show me what?!”

Reyes gathered her in and kissed the crown of her head. _Happy now, Keema?_ “The surprise Keema arranged.”

Much as she had when he flew her out to the homestead site, Ryder lit up and started bouncing on her toes. He dropped his arms as she bounded straight out of his embrace. “More surprises?” She glanced between him and Keema, who was clearly enjoying this display of feeling on Ryder’s part. She would. _Bloody emotional angara._

“Take her upstairs. Everyone has been ordered out on errands for the next few days so you’ll have some privacy. I’ll see you two later,” Keema said, sitting in a low chair and taking up a datapad. 

Inspired by the idea of carrying her over the threshold of the apartment he scooped Ryder up, enjoying her squeal of delight, the weight of her in his arms, her embrace around his neck. Keema shook her head, smiling at her datapad.

The corridors were empty, as Keema had promised. Ryder, while accepting his insistence on carrying her, squirmed and twisted, trying to see where they were going. “I’m going to drop you,” he threatened jokingly. She looked up into his eyes, suddenly still and serious. “You’d never drop me, Reyes. I trust you.” He stopped and hoisted her up high enough to kiss her, deeply touched. He had his rough edges and he knew it, but everything in him wanted to keep her safe and happy. 

He set her down outside the door. “Close your eyes, and don’t open them until I say so,” he ordered. Obedient and excited, she shut them, bouncing again now that she was back on her feet. “Reyeeeesssss what’s in there?” 

Reyes toggled the door, guiding Ryder in with hands on her shoulders. “Open them,” he whispered, sliding his arms around her to hug her from behind. He _thought_ she’d like this, but part of him was still afraid she wouldn’t. 

Her jaw dropped and she gasped, clutching his arms around her. “ _Reyes_ ,” she hissed. “Is this…?”

“Ours,” he confirmed. “A gift from Keema, because she’s decided you’re good for me and wants you to spend more time here. Don’t worry, it’s in my name so it doesn’t look like a bribe or anything. But I want us to share it.”

She turned in his arms, face neutral. “On one condition.”

His heart stopped. “What?” he asked carefully. 

Her smirk made his pulse race. “We have to fuck in every single room before I leave.” He threw back his head and roared with laughter, hugging her close. “You are the only one for me,” he said when he’d gotten his breath back. “Now and always.” She looked up at him, hearing his oath for what it was. “Right back at ya,” she whispered, kissing him. Abruptly, he felt his commitment to her was more real, more solid, than it had ever been. She loved him. She trusted him. She’d now accepted two symbols of commitment greater than any piece of jewelry, and his promise that he was forever hers. 

“You mean that?” he asked, wanting to be sure. There was still a lot they didn’t know about each other, but she’d seen the worst of him and embraced it. She nodded. “Yes. Now and always.” He kissed her, walking her back until she hit the couch. “Then which room should we start in?” he purred.

Reyes had seen a number of evil looks cross Ryder’s face, but this was the worst yet. “This one. Against the window, so you can fuck me while looking out at everything you’re the master of, and I can see how it makes you feel.” A thrill instantly rushed over him and his breath caught at the sexual potency of the idea for him, especially when she followed it up with a husky, “Now, please,” and teased at his belt while nipping his neck. 

He was fairly certain he’d never gotten himself and another person naked that quickly before. She made a little hop and wrapped long legs around his waist, trapping his throbbing cock between them as he carried her over to the window and grinding against it gently.

Propping her against the window, he paused for a moment to gaze into her eyes, then out over her shoulder, allowing himself to completely drop his mask and let everything cascading through him show on his face. Triumph. Joy. Power. Arousal. Looking back at her, he allowed one more. Love. 

Then he buried his cock in her, taking her roughly. Claiming her, claiming Kadara. The rewards for all his pain, sorrow, and sacrifice over the years. Her cries spurred him on and he thrust harder, gripping her by the throat and using his forearm across her chest to keep her pinned upright while his other arm supported her ass. Her legs around his waist held him close, drove him deeper. When she came, he turned her head to the side and bit her, hard, sucking at the flesh of her neck to make sure the mark would be strong and dark. She was his, and Kadara was his. He had everything he had ever dreamed of and more. She screamed louder and writhed against him, the pain of her nails dragging across his shoulder blades tipping him over the edge and into his release.

She unraveled quickly after that, dropping her legs and staggering them both against the window. “That was...intense,” she panted, brushing his hair back into its usual style before planting a kiss on his chest. Reyes was exhausted, but he scooped her up and carried her to the couch, dropping into it and holding her curled up in his lap. She snuggled in closer and they sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the nearness of each other. 

“Can I ask you something?” she murmured against his neck.

“Anything, _mi reina_.”

Ryder shifted slightly, the way she did when she was trying to find the way to say something difficult. “The last time you were on the Tempest. When you threw all the things in the galley. Were you...mad at me?”

He sighed and squeezed her in a hug. He’d wondered if she would ask him about that day, and he knew he owed her a proper explanation. _How to tell her…? From the beginning, I guess._ “No, _amor_ , not at you. It’s…” he paused, organizing his thoughts. _The beginning_. “When I was a boy, my father…” he swallowed, still finding it difficult to talk about after all these years. “He was a drunk. He used to hit my sister and I, for anything that displeased him, or just because the devil was in him. One day, when I was thirteen, he nearly killed me.” He paused and took a deep breath, remembering the day he’d come home after losing his first fight, and Ryder’s arms tightened around him. “I swore that I’d be better. Treat my loved ones better, be more than a bitter old drunk, protect people from bullies.” He paused again at Ryder’s sniffle and rubbed her back, the movement as soothing to him as it was to her. “I’m not a good man,” he mused. “I know that.”

“Reyes -” she started to protest, tears in her eyes, and he cut her off with a kiss. “I’m not. I murder, steal, torture, lie, and manipulate people. But I would _never_ hurt you, and I will _always_ try to help those who are being ground down by someone stronger than them. Do I want power, influence, credits? _Yes_. But I told you the truth at Sloane’s party. I want to be someone. And I want to help people.” He leaned back, resting his head against the seat cushion and speaking to the ceiling. “Maybe if it stops another kid nearly getting beat to death by his father, because his father has opportunities and not just drugs or alcohol, all my sins will be worth it.” 

He sighed, sitting up to look her in the eye. “So that’s why I had to walk out. I didn’t want to run, because I’m not leaving you unless it’s what you want. And I would never take my anger out on you because I know that for what it is. Cowardly. Weak. Wrong.” He kissed her again. “But I couldn’t fix what happened to you, couldn’t stop you from dying, couldn’t…” His hands fisted in helpless rage at the idea that he _couldn’t protect her_ from everything. “You’re everything to me,” he whispered. “And with everything else, I’m in control. To be powerless...that made me feel like a child again. I hated it. The energy had to go somewhere. Pots seemed the best option at the time. I’m sorry I scared you.” 

She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. _Is this what you wanted, Keema? I shared my feelings. Sober, with the person I love_. It was a big step for him, a first, and Reyes felt tears gather in his own eyes. Although he’d taken plenty of time for introspection, reliving his past was something he desperately tried avoid. He didn’t want pity, and he preferred to look forward at what he was building rather than back at what had broken him. 

“Shh sh sh,” he soothed, rubbing her back again, then massaging her neck. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It just...seemed like the best way to help you understand was to tell the story from the beginning. Besides,” he said, forcing a grin, “I want you to know me, even if it’s hard. Because that’s big stuff, right?” 

It took her another minute, but she sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” she said softly. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me, I’d just...never seen you like that. But I think I get it now.” She kissed him, and he drank in her love for him. He felt lighter than he had for a long time, and oddly comforted. Maybe there was something to Keema’s insistence on emotional sharing after all. It wasn't an easy thing, but Ryder's penchant for danger and the depth of his feelings for her made him start to realize how important it was that he open up to her - just in case one day she didn't make it back to him. 

They cuddled a while longer before he asked, “So what room should we try next?” 

__“Mmmm…” she hummed, clearly willing to be distracted. She started nipping his neck and stroking his cock in a way that made it easy to focus on the present. “That bed had some interesting features from the quick glance I had. Got any rope?”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was ok and that Reyes' bit felt true to character. I don't really do feelings, so this chapter kind of exhausted me a bit, but this Ryder isn't the sort to just let something like Reyes' fit in Jackal slide.


	13. Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder makes a startling discovery and enlists Reyes' help, only to be enlisted in turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: chapter focuses on the Ryder Family Secrets/Memory Triggers mission. Bear with me as I work through plot rather than smut for this one. There's a little fluff though :)

With markedly more pep than she’d felt in months, Ryder stepped off the Tempest onto the Nexus and headed for the Hyperion's SAM node. The days off with Reyes had been everything she needed physically, mentally, and emotionally, and she promised herself she’d make more time for “weekends” even if it pissed off the entire Nexus leadership team. Nobody could be expected to perform at their best if they were continually thrown into the situations she dealt with on a near-daily basis, non-stop, for months. Reyes made her feel alive and refreshed again, rather than frayed and at the edge of burnout.

Hands in her pockets, she grinned at the memories they’d created in their new home. _Home_. She had a home now, and a man waiting for her there. A future for herself, the kind she was fighting for everyone else to have. It gave new meaning to her work as Pathfinder, finally gave her something of her own to make the sweat and blood worth it. For the first time since waking up in her new role, she was truly happy to have it. Ready to fight not out of a sense of duty, but because home wasn’t just an abstract idea. It was an apartment on Kadara, with cushions in her favorite color, a real shower, a view of the port, and a man she loved. 

And oh, that man. She smiled, a small quirk of her lips. Reyes had really opened up to her on this trip. Pieces started to click together in her mind, helping her understand why he was so insistent on her consent for their rougher play, or why he sought the distance of the Charlatan when she was hurt. He was more human somehow for sharing those pieces of himself, and she loved him all the more for it. 

Then there was the way he made her body come alive. He sparked more in her with a look than anyone else had with a touch, the dark promise in those golden-hazel eyes always fulfilled before he was finished with her. His hands on her skin, stroking, caressing, pinching, massaging, probing, making blood rush wherever they wandered. His mouth, kissing, biting, licking, sucking, spilling words of adoration that filled places in her soul she hadn’t known were empty. The way his cock filled her when he took her, each time as if it had been forever and at the same time as if it would be the last. The taste of his climax hitting her tongue. The strength of his arms afterward, as he held her, made her feel safe, and said things in Spanish that sounded a lot like, “I love you, forever,” every time, before falling asleep with his face buried in her hair. To have that whenever she wanted it...that was worth fighting for. 

Those thoughts kept her smiling all the way to SAM node. Then she remembered why she was there and sobered, not entirely looking forward to seeing the pieces of her father the memory triggers she’d collected were supposed to reveal. She and Alec Ryder had had a strained relationship even after she’d come to terms with his absence from her life. She had no idea what would be revealed but had a feeling it wasn’t going to be pretty. He’d been a secretive man, but what could possibly be so bad that it was locked behind eidetic memory triggers accessible only by his children? Why had he sacrificed himself for her and risked the knowledge being lost or scattered?

The quiet in SAM node was usually soothing, but now it felt ominous. The dancing blue and orange ball that made up SAM’s visualization shifted and hummed. She knew she was anthropomorphizing, but the sphere of light seemed to take on a nervous edge as if SAM himself was unsure what to think about what was happening. She took a deep breath before ordering the AI to play the first memory. 

Watching the memories she’d unlocked was even harder than Ryder had thought it would be. She only got the faintest hint of emotion from the memory, as if SAM had been more concerned with recording the external stimuli than the internal chemical response. Seeing herself through her father’s eyes, catching...was that regret? For what? For how she’d turned out? For not being there? Impossible to guess. Watching how hard he’d fought to keep her mother alive...Ryder hadn’t realized how deeply Alec had cared, the lengths to which he’d gone trying to save Ellen. She was more inclined to think well of the man than she had been in a long time, but stubbornly irritated at having to do so. Then there was her mother’s last day.

“And remember, fall in love, at least once.” 

She’d forgotten Ellen saying that. Wondered if her love for Reyes would please her mother, or if she’d have agreed with Scott’s initial assessment the one time he’d been conscious for tests. Her brother had called Reyes and made a damn fool of himself if she said so herself, but the interaction had given her the first hints of how deeply Reyes cared for her - and how much of a jerk her brother was going to be about her relationship with an exile. 

After watching all of SAM’s memories except the one still mysteriously locked, she trudged over to the Pathfinder’s quarters around the corner to listen to the audio logs now decrypted. A sense of dread had fallen over her, heavy and stifling, to accompany the mild depression resurfacing at reliving her mother’s death. What else would her father reveal?

“I wasn’t the husband or father I should have been. Here’s hoping 600 years can change a man.” Hearing the worry in Alec’s voice was a slap in the face. It enraged her, opened old emotional wounds that she’d cauterized and left for healed. “It’s these moments when you wish you’d told your children you loved them more often. Or ever. Which brings me to the tough part. Kids, if anything happens to me, there are...things you’re going to find out. I hope you’ll understand.” Why hadn’t he ever told them? Tried harder?

 _I can’t even with this_ , Ryder thought. _I can’t. Fucking. Even_. Her father had been gone for years, barely a part of his family’s lives until Ellen had fallen sick. Ryder had played along dutifully when he returned, not wanting to upset her mother, but by then it was too little, too late in her book. She’d only gone along with him on the Andromeda Initiative because she’d taken one disciplinary mark too many as a peacekeeper, and _somebody_ had to watch out for Scott, who hero-worshipped their father and jumped at the chance to follow him on a mission. She always had Scott’s back but hadn’t trusted it to Alec, so it had been a shock when she’d woken up to discover Alec had given his life for hers. She genuinely hadn’t thought him that type of man, or father.

She shook herself. Nope, she was not in the mood to consider the Ryder family dynamics just now. Maybe later. With lots of whiskey. And Reyes to distract her afterward; hell, maybe she could return the favor and share her family history.

Keying the logs, she listened with interest to Dr Liara T’soni, her interest evolving into horror when she realized everyone in the Milky Way might be dead after these Reapers attacked. She shook her head. Save that for later, to discuss with Reyes. Whatever had happened was 645 years in the past. There was no changing it from Heleus, in any case.

Selecting the next message revealed something even stranger. Jien Garson _wasn’t_ the only person behind the Initiative, was even a bit more of a figurehead than the real deal. There was a mysterious benefactor, someone who had Alec Ryder concerned enough to make a log about it but not concerned enough to stop him from taking this avenue to try and save his wife. As much as it pained her, she would have to speak to Tann for more information. 

Of course, the salarian couldn’t tell her anything new. She scoffed at his suspicion when he asked what she was after, telling him there was no reason for her asking. He told her that by the time they’d found Garson, she was already dead. Striving for professionalism, Ryder asked about a follow-up. Apparently, there hadn’t been one. Was he so shortsighted and power hungry that he’d ignore the implications of the Initiative’s leader being murdered before most everyone else was even awake?

Tann urged her not to add to the confusion by reopening the investigation, and she went along with it, fully intending to do so regardless. This was too important. _And whatever I can’t find in the logs, Reyes can probably track down._ Having a literal partner in crime was turning out to have benefits she hadn’t imagined when she’d followed her heart into the shadows of Kadara.

“We need to discuss your choices on the Archon’s ship,” Tann said, obviously changing the subject.

“Can it wait one more day? I have some things to take care of,” she hedged. She wanted to gather as much evidence as she could on the Garson case before Tann realized she was going after it and hid...whatever might be out there to find. The director eyed her speculatively. “There are a few people on the Nexus who’ve asked for help with some sabotage. Wouldn’t want them thinking leadership doesn’t care again, right?”

“Fine,” he snapped. “Be here tomorrow.” Ryder nodded, made a mocking salute, and left. 

First, she tracked down the security logs in the Garson case, finding them worryingly vague. It appeared that connecting Garson’s death to the Scourge was completely based on speculation. When they searched the apartment where she was found, SAM discovered conclusive evidence that Garson hadn’t been alone when she’d died. 

Further scanning revealed a hidden panic room, with a message from the Initiative’s former leader. She’d been being hunted, and her notes suggested that she’d been worried for Alec as well. What the hell was going on? Hadn’t this area been sealed off when she died? It was starting to look like Reyes’ choice to leave had been the smart one. Things were not on the level here. Was Tann ignorant, complicit, or apathetic? What about the rest of the leadership? Could she trust any of them?

Following Garson’s trail of clues led her to the most shocking revelation of all. Determined to decipher the mystery, she went to Garson’s VI and used the code. Got another code to take back to SAM node for the last locked file, where she discovered something that rocked her back in shock and disbelief.

Her mother was alive, in stasis.

What was Scott going to say when he woke up? 

***

When she got back to the Tempest, she called Reyes. “ _Amor_ , I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so early.” 

“Sorry, did I interrupt?” 

“No, no, I’m just pleasantly surprised.”

“Are you alone?” 

“Ryder, you know you’re the only one for me,” he teased. “Yes, I’m alone,” he confirmed more seriously when she didn’t respond. 

“Something strange happened on the Nexus before everyone was woken up. Jien Garson didn’t die in the Scourge accident. I think she was murdered.”

“Murdered?” His tone sharpened, and she could tell she had his full attention. He’d left along with the rioters, not having been a participant but convinced there was more going on than they were being told. 

“Murdered,” Ryder confirmed. “The official report seemed vague, so I poked around in the apartment she was found in. SAM was able to reconstruct the scene. Reyes, someone was standing over her when she died, and I found a panic room with audio logs saying she was being hunted.”

Reyes pounced on the information. “Reconstruct the - Ryder, does anyone else know that SAM can do that?”

She shrugged to herself. “I don’t know. Some of my squad, maybe? Why?”

“That’s a skill people would kill for, or kill to keep you from using it against them. Keep it quiet, if you can. As for the other person, could you tell who it was?” 

Ryder made a sound of negation. “It looked like a man. Bald, maybe? Definitely human, in any case. But there’s more. Garson wasn’t the only person behind the Initiative. There was some kind of benefactor. Someone anonymous that she and my father were both concerned about, but couldn’t identify. It’s...part of why he made me Pathfinder. To keep the secret in the family.” A small part of her mind screamed at her. Did telling him mean Reyes was family? _Yes_ , she told herself firmly, he is. _You swore to each other. Now and always. He’ll help you._

“That explains a lot. It certainly seems like it could play into motive,” he said slowly, sounding like he was sorting information in his head already. “Well done, _mi reina_ , and thank you for trusting me with this.”

Ryder shifted uncomfortably. If she hadn’t chosen a side before, she’d well and truly chosen one now. “Tann doesn’t want to hear about it. Doesn’t want me to stir up trouble by reopening the case. Someone else needed to know.” _In case something happens to me for pushing_ , she thought. “Anyway, Alec had something else locked away. My mom…” She took a deep breath, the shock of it still making her head light. “My mom’s alive. In stasis. I thought she was dead. Scott and I had no idea...”

“Your father?” Reyes asked, immediately finding the logical explanation. She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her, and replied, “Yes. He was hoping to find something that could save her here in Andromeda. Reyes...I _have_ to save my mother. She was all we had after Alec chose being an N7 over his family, over us. I have to do this.”

“My information network is more political and financial than medical, but I’ll see what I can find out from the angara and forward you anything that might help.”

Tears rose in her eyes. Reyes had never met her mother, had been verbally attacked by her twin, and was still offering to help without question or hesitation. She sniffed, feeling a weight lifted at his unconditional support. _This_ is what family should be. “Thank you, Reyes,” she whispered, trying not to let the tears show in her voice.

“Anything for you,” he said, giving her space by ignoring the sniffling noises she was making.

Clearing her throat and wiping her eyes, she huffed a sigh. “Reyes, what do I do with this? I can’t tell if Tann is a power-hungry idiot who wants to let the dead rest for his own benefit, or if he had a hand in it and is trying to stop me from uncovering something.”

He didn’t answer right away. “Can you be sure of any of the other leaders?”

“For now, maybe Kesh? But I’ll have a better idea of who’s on my side tomorrow. I’m being grilled on my actions on the Archon’s ship by the entire leadership team.” She pouted and kicked a foot, annoyed that she'd have to explain herself.

Reyes sighed. “Then you may have to reconsider any plans of leaving the Initiative. As much as I want you here with me, we have to know what happened to Garson. You’re perfectly placed to gain intel.” Ryder chewed her lip nervously. He was right, but she hated the idea of being a spy. It wasn’t her style; she preferred to be openly for or against something or someone. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized it had been coming to this for a while. Her heart was already with the king of the exiles, and choice after choice bound her closer to him. Now she had to get her mind in the game. “Besides,” he continued, “you need more time to figure out SAM, and help your mother, no?” 

It was Ryder’s turn to huff a sigh. “You’re right. I don’t like it, at all, but you’re right. Everyone is focused on the kett and the settlements now, but as soon as we move past that the real politicking will begin. We need to know who could be a threat. Or an ally.”

“You’re a treasure, _mi reina_. Let’s discuss more when you’re here next. I have a client coming in twenty minutes.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be going after Meridian soon, but I’ll try to stop by Kadara before I do.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised. His voice was honey and sex, dark seduction all wrapped up in a few words, and she shivered. “You always do,” she breathed, wanting him badly, before ending the call. 

###

Reyes leaned back on the couch, deep in thought. He was glad Ryder had caught him in Tartarus with that news; it was the location he was most sure of, with either himself, Kian, or cameras watching it at all times to ensure no-one gained entry to plant bugs. Most of Tartarus’ patrons knew better than to try by now in any case, but you could never be too careful when you were in his position. The information she’d shared was too sensitive to risk being overheard or intercepted.

Jien Garson, murdered? Her death had been one of the events that eventually sparked the riots; Sloane, in particular, had idolized the woman. Had it been planned, a destabilizing tactic? What was the end game? 

In the time before his buyer arrived, he instructed his lieutenants to keep their ears open for any information about the Nexus’ arrival in Heleus. Not to actively search for it - he didn’t want to lead anyone to Ryder as his source - but to let him know immediately if even the smallest piece of intel came to light. Then he arranged a meeting with Keema. It was time to expand the Collective off world, starting with Elaaden. With Ryder at his side his ambitions could grow beyond Kadara, and if the Nexus had a traitor, he needed to be ready to reap the benefits when division consumed it. 

In the last minutes before his client arrived, he took a moment to savor the achievement of a long-held goal: an agent in the inner circles of the Nexus. He had two operatives on the station, both angara, to keep an eye on the general situation there. There was no official communication between the Nexus and Kadara other than with Ditaeon and Ryder’s few on-the-record interactions with him, but with an outpost now active word would get back to the station about the Charlatan and the Collective and he wanted to be prepared for any reaction, positive or negative. Information was power, power was safety, and on the Nexus power was held in the hands of four key individuals. Ryder had access to all of them, and now a motivation of her own to actively use it. 

Things couldn’t have fallen together more perfectly if he’d arranged it all himself. Both his personal and professional relationships with the Pathfinder were succeeding and expanding beyond his wildest dreams. What were the odds that the love of his life would be the most useful person he’d ever encountered, the most able to help him accomplish his aims?

He felt a moment of guilt for using Ryder for his own ends but pushed it aside. He loved her, deeply, for who she was outside of her position as Pathfinder. The spark of fire she lit wherever she went, her willingness to jump in where needed, the air of danger she exuded when she was armored up, her quick mind and beautiful, delicious little body. But neither of them were normal people living normal lives, as much as they had enjoyed the semblance of it on Ryder’s extended visit. He would do what it took to ensure safety for both of them, and he wasn’t ashamed to enlist her help in making it happen. She’d agreed of her own free will and was too good an asset to pass up. He just hoped the woman managed to avoid finding trouble in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're halfway through! This is officially the longest thing I've ever written, so thanks for coming along for the ride.


	14. Nexus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder fights with Nexus leadership about Meridian and with her freshly-awakened brother about her actions in Heleus, realizing that only one person has consistently had her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More spoilers for the Ryder Family Secrets mission. No smut, a little family angst.

“Ryder made a sentimental choice saving the krogan. She looked at them, and thought of you.” Tann’s lisping voice rang out loud and clear, criticizing her in her absence.

Shit. The council was meeting already. They must have started early because she was right on time. Ryder quickened her pace and burst into the meeting, a scowl on her face. She needed to be there for more than just herself, now. She needed to know who she could trust, who she could rely on...and by extension, who Reyes and the Collective could trust and rely on.

“Ryder. We were just discussing your encounter with the Archon.”

Fuck. Of course they were, and of course, they’d started without her to do so. She had to defend herself not only from Tann in the opening salvo of accusations and recriminations but also from Kandros. Kandros was usually on her side in spite of her choosing a scientific outpost over a military one on Eos, but this time he was against her. They didn’t want to listen to her explanations.

“If we do nothing, I guarantee there’s a fight coming. The Archon is already exploring how to exalt us. _It’s not pretty_ ,” she insisted, shuddering to remember the kett experiments on the salarians, and that she had nearly joined them. 

In the end, none of the Nexus leadership supported her. All of her hard work, her efforts to support _every single one_ of them, thrown to the side like nothing. Colonies for Addison. The semblance of order and success for Tann. Putting down a new riot, finding the turian ark and pushing Avitus into the Pathfinder role so that the turians would continue to have influence, for Kandros. Bringing the krogan back into the fold for Kesh. Kesh’s lack of support hurt the most, but there was nothing for it. They all argued against her. None of them wanted to go after Meridian. None of them saw the worth in snatching something the Archon considered valuable away from him. 

It hit her then that Reyes was the only one who had ever offered her support or guidance. In an odd way, even when he’d used her it was because he’d seen, and had faith in, her abilities and position. Ever since she’d woken up as Pathfinder, she’d been obstructed, disrespected, talked down to, brushed aside, and doubted by everyone on the Nexus. She’d proven herself again and again, reset Remnant vaults and made planets habitable four times over, and they still treated her like dirt. What did they keep her around for, if they weren’t going to listen to her?

She wanted to kiss each of the other Pathfinders when they stepped up in her support. That was a welcome surprise, although Tann tried to talk them down, bully them into compliance. Maybe there was hope. She was glad she’d played a part in placing each of them in their roles, reluctant though they may have been to step into them. It had been pure happenstance, each choice made in the moment rather than to any grand plan, but Ryder felt certain that even Reyes would have been hard-pressed to arrange a more perfect confluence of events. 

Ryder left the meeting when it was clear they weren’t going to change their minds, frustrated but hopeful that something could be figured out between the four Pathfinders. They were discussing what to do next when Tann’s secretary jumped in. “Pathfinder! Apologies, there was an urgent message for you. They said your brother is awake.”

She ran out the door, completely heedless of the others. She was mad at Scott for what he’d said to Reyes the last time he'd been awake for tests and anxious about what she’d learned of their mother, but he was still her little brother. She had to be there when he woke up. 

When she walked into the Hyperion’s medbay, he was already upright. “Scott!” she said, leaning in for a quick hug before sitting down next to him on the bed. Talk quickly turned to their father, and Ryder looked away. He couldn’t have been saved; he’d essentially killed himself so she could live. That still raised conflicting feelings in her. Feelings she didn’t want to think about.

Of course, her brother wanted to get up and head out. Fight the kett, save the galaxy. Maybe he should have been Pathfinder, but it was her, so she took advantage of it and pulled rank. She couldn’t hold back from telling him about Ellen, though. 

Scott was as shocked as she had been when she dragged him down to cryo to show him their mother’s pod. “So Dad being a pain in the ass finally paid off! I wanna shake his hand. And then _punch_ him. Why didn’t he tell us?”

She didn’t have answers for him. SAM simply advised against waking her up. One day, hopefully soon. Maybe. Disappointed, Scott started to walk away. “Hang in there, Mom,” Laz said before she turned to leave as well. “We missed you.”

And if Laz didn’t play her cards right, Reyes would be missing her, or she missing him. She had to do something about the kett and figure out what was going on with Garson and the Nexus. If either decided Kadara was a threat Reyes would be at risk, and she couldn’t lose him. But first, she needed to make sure Scott wasn’t going to make another ill-advised decision when it came to her lover. 

“Scott!” she shouted, running to catch up. Her brother stopped and turned to her. “Let’s go for a drink, now that you’re awake.”

He eyed her a moment before accepting her invitation, and she strode off in the direction of Vortex, certain he’d follow. He always had, from they day they were born.

***

The bar was dark and the music sensual, as always. It was almost as good as Kralla’s Song, and her mood tumbled a bit to think of Reyes being so far away. 

Scott sipped his beer. “So,” he tossed out into the charged atmosphere. “Still sleeping with that exile?”

Trust him to go straight for the most sensitive topic first. 

Laz spun her whiskey glass. “Yep,” she confirmed shortly. “Get used to it.”

Her twin eyed her over his bottle. “He’s an exile.”

“And you’ve been awake for a grand total of two days in Heleus, with no idea of what’s happened other than what I told you via SAM or what you had five minutes to look up between tests. You don’t know what’s going on, other than that the golden worlds were a bust, Dad is dead, Mom is in stasis, and I left you an emergency contact.”

“That’s not fair.”

Fair? He wanted to talk about fair? “You’re damn right it’s not! Do you think I wanted this? Alec was supposed to be Pathfinder, or Cora, or even you. Not me. Not the Ryder family fuck-up. I came along for the ride, nearly died on day one - no, I _did_ die on day one! - and when I woke up everything was upside down. But I’ve been doing the best I can, and you and everyone else are going to have to accept it.” Angrily, she took a long draught of her whiskey, glad she’d gotten a double. 

Her brother regarded her for long moments, clearly disapproving. He was accustomed to her defensive outbursts by now and ignored most of what she'd said out of hand. “Does that mean you love him? Or is it just a quick fuck when you can fit it in, as usual?”

She glared at him, seething. Why was he like this? “That’s low, and it’s none of your business, but you’re going to have to spend time with him at some point so I’ll answer you. Yes. I love him, and he loves me. And _so help me_ , Scott, if you try to sabotage this, I’ll kill you myself.” 

Scott made a long face that tugged at the scars on his right cheek, the corners of his mouth turning down as his eyebrows raised. “That serious, huh? I don’t think there’s ever been one of those.”

Laz slumped. She knew she had a terrible relationship history. Hell, a terrible everything history, but especially relationships. Men, and the one woman, just failed to keep her interest for long. They weren’t assertive enough, or interesting enough, or they were too clingy. She had her fun and then left, never looking back.

None of that was a problem with Reyes. His bedroom dominance never failed to arouse her. As intimidating as he could be when he needed to act as the Charlatan, his work leading the Collective and his general intelligence made him frighteningly and endlessly interesting. She never had to worry that he’d be clingy, because he maintained his own life and pursuits on Kadara. She knew how much he wanted her with him, but he never made her feel guilty for doing her job. He had a protective streak that sometimes edged into possessiveness, but even when she went dancing while he was working in Tartarus he never tried to play jealous games to punish her for it. They were equal partners with a shared objective, each doing their part according to their strengths and positions. He was, quite simply, everything she’d ever wanted and been afraid to demand. He’d had to do some fucked up things as the Charlatan, but her hands weren’t clean, either. She wasn’t going to hold it against him. 

“Shit,” Scott said, “this _is_ serious. I’ve never seen that look on your face before.”

Uncomfortable, Laz shifted and tried to make her face neutral. “What look?” Her brother shrugged, at a loss for words. “Just...happy. At peace. In love, even. Human, and not some cynical robot.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

“You were, for a while.”

“Can we not talk about that? It’s 641 years in the past. I’m not looking back.”

Scott snorted a laugh. “Nope, it’s still you. That’s a relief. I was beginning to think you’d been bodysnatched.”

Laz stuck her tongue out at him. “Screw you, baby brother.”

It was Scott’s turn to roll his eyes; he hated being reminded that he was younger than her. Then he settled in again, looking at her intently. “So what did this Reyes Vidal do to get exiled, anyway? His file is corrupted, only says he’s a shuttle pilot. And he was a bit of a dick when I called him.”

She resisted the temptation to shush him when he said Reyes’ name, knowing he would only pry further. Their relationship was still fairly quiet, and she had already taken a risk by adding his name to some encrypted instructions for Scott to call him should anything happen to the Tempest. 

It was bound to get out eventually - Reyes had mentioned rumors starting in Kadara Port that they were sleeping together, and her entire crew knew - but it hadn’t bothered her before. Now she had a murder mystery to solve, a shadowy benefactor to track down, and politicians to influence, a fact that would be made more difficult if they thought her exiled smuggler boyfriend made her untrustworthy. She didn’t want to imagine what would happen if anyone made the connection between Reyes and the Charlatan. One day the bill for that reckoning would come due, and she only hoped that she was in a position to either pay it or escape it when it did. 

“Of course he was a dick, you called to accuse him of not caring about me. I heard the whole conversation and it serves you right. Anyway -” she said as he opened his mouth to protest, “he wasn’t formally exiled, he just left with them.” Scott’s eyebrows went up, clearly disbelieving. “Not everyone who left was a rioter. Some of them just got sick of politics on the Nexus and thought they’d take their chances somewhere else.” 

“Sounds pretty stupid, if the golden worlds are a bust,” Scott butted in. He seemed determined to find fault with Reyes somehow. _Wait until he finds out what Reyes does for a living…_

“ _Were_ a bust. I fixed them,” Laz said proudly. Her twin stared at her in confusion, and she took advantage of the opportunity to steer him away from discussion of her lover and onto safer topics. 

They continued chatting for awhile, until Scott started looking peaked and she insisted on taking him back to the med bay to rest. “Hey,” he said as she turned to go. “I’m glad you have someone you care about. I just don’t want you to…”

“Fuck it up, along with myself, like I have with literally everything else in my life?” she offered bitterly when he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable and unwilling to finish his sentence. She hadn’t always made the best choices, and Scott was always there to judge her for them with the perfect insight of an armchair referee. 

He shrugged. “I didn’t say that. Just be careful, okay?”

“Goodbye, Scott. Rest well,” she said over her shoulder as she started walking out. She loved her brother, but some days she really didn’t like him. Today was definitely one of those days.

***

After some internal debate, she went back to speak to Tann. He _had_ to see things her way; the Archon couldn’t be allowed to go unchallenged and the kett had been too quiet for too long. Somehow she still found herself disappointed when all he said was, “Caution must guide us.”

Of course he’d say that. Caution would keep him in power. But what had he really done, other than make speeches? There had been a rebellion he’d barely overcome. An entire swath of the population exiled. Months of darkness and rationing, until the Hyperion had arrived. The Initiative was more than a year behind schedule and split in two because of his caution, but he was still the director. Where would they be had the Hyperion not made it through the Scourge, if it was disabled in space or running from the kett as the other arks had been? 

Dead. They would all be dead, except for the exiles, who didn’t represent enough genetic diversity for a viable Milky Way presence in the long run. Ryder and her team had brought them all together, found the scattered arks, reset the vaults, and created settlements where everyone thought it would be impossible, yet her thoughts and opinions counted for nothing. She had accepted it, annoyed but understanding, when she was fresh. But not now, when she’d already done so much to prove herself over the last few months.

She made a choice. “I can see where it’s the safest course,” she said, lulling him. Yesterday, the idea of being a spy within the upper echelons of the Nexus had felt icky. Dishonest. Untrustworthy. Today, it gave her purpose. Reyes would be proud. She was doing what she had to do in order to ensure the corruption and inaction on the Nexus didn’t spread. Or if it did, to help Reyes and the Collective act as a counterbalance.

_Reyes_. If she was going to do this, it would have to be immediately. There would be no time to stop by Kadara for a goodbye. She only hoped he would understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're still with me! The next few chapters are mostly plot, action, and angst, but smut will return before the end of the story. Promise ;). Just need to get past the Meridian missions.


	15. Outmaneuvered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes observes the race to Meridian via an encrypted vid feed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly action. Anxious Charlatan and no smut yet.

Reyes looked up, momentarily confused when the terminal in his Tartarus room trilled with an incoming vidcon request. There were only a handful of people who would want to get him on screen, and he hoped it was Ryder. She kept in touch pretty regularly but seemed to prefer voice calls from her quarters, where there was more privacy.

“Hello, love,” she greeted him when he accepted the call. He smiled, always happy to hear that word from her. “ _Amor_ ,” he replied. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Her holo wavered as if she was nervously shifting from one foot to the other. _Shit_. This had to be another mission. A big one. Meridian, finally? She was getting better at controlling her reactions the more time she spent with him - unless a surprise was involved - but telling him about missions always made her nervous. He wasn't sure why yet; he was careful never to respond in a way that could be construed as punishing her for sharing information. Everything she shared was too valuable to his work with the Collective, and as her partner, he wanted to be her safe haven. 

“I’m headed to Meridian,” she said, confirming his suspicion. “Against the orders of Nexus leadership, so I won’t be able to stop in Kadara. The other Pathfinders are on board with the plan though, helping me out with some experimental tech to distract the kett with fake ship signatures. We’re nearly at the navpoint now.” 

He felt the Charlatan edge into him, bleeding in from the darker, quieter place in his mind where things were more easily controlled. This was not going to end well; the feeling of lead was growing in his belly and he knew what it meant. Every other time it had happened, something dramatically life-threatening had happened to Ryder. Add to that the fact that her meeting with Tann and the others must have gone spectacularly badly if she was gambling her position and access to defy them. 

At least she'd pulled the other Pathfinders into it. One alone the Nexus could have made an example of, now that they had four of them. With all of them going rogue, they'd have to do damage control instead. She was being reckless, but not stupid, and that was something of a relief. “Can I do anything?” he asked calmly, determined to be helpful, to stand in contrast to the Initiative and do anything he could to help her avoid the fate that was causing his stomach to sink. Anything to make sure she came home to him afterward.

“Actually...it’s what I can do for you. I don't know why I didn't think of it before, but SAM says he can connect to your terminal address and send an encrypted vid feed from my helmet cam while I’m in the field. Kind of like when you listened in with the Architect on Kadara. Would that help? Or make things worse?” 

“Help,” he said immediately. He remembered the way he’d felt watching her battle the Remnant titan and knew the level of stress and anxiety he was in for, but at the same time, he wouldn’t be left wondering what was going on and he’d know who to kill if anything happened to her. He’d also gain access to valuable information about the forces shaping Heleus, maybe even about this new ship tech. That sounded like it would be incredibly useful for smuggling operations. Information was always a primary interest, but with his recent decision to fully expand Collective operations on Elaaden and grow the one token outpost he had there, it would be crucial.

Her brilliant smile sent a slow, spreading burn of love through him. “I was hoping you'd say that,” she replied. “I'll feel better with you watching over me. This is gonna be a tricky one, Reyes. Aside from the risk of field-testing this new GhostStorm tech that's getting us in, nobody knows what Meridian really is or what to expect when we get there.”

“You'll figure it out, and you'll win,” he told her, injecting confidence into his voice to cover the fear hovering at the edges. She stood straighter, prouder. It was clear her meeting on the Nexus had gone badly, but had they really made her feel so beaten down that a few small words from him would have such an effect? 

A flash of rage shot through him. She was wasted on the Initiative. A woman of her skill, talent, and intelligence should be nurtured and guided to greater heights, not hobbled by petty politics and lessened by those who lacked vision. 

He suspected it had been the story of her life; it usually was for people, especially women, like her. She was virtually uncontrollable and led by her own sense of morality and practicality, as he'd learned the hard way and observed further since they'd started their relationship. And yet she was incredibly capable and driven, with natural leadership instincts. The combination would make her a threat in any structured or heavily traditional environment. Tann’s rigid, top-down management style would either break her or drive her away eventually, and he'd be there to pick up the pieces. For her to have achieved so much so young indicated future greatness - if she was properly handled.

If Reyes didn't need her access to the Nexus politicians he'd be trying to lure her away and groom her for leadership in the Collective. Slowly introducing her to his operations, getting her more comfortable with taking an active part in a less-than-legal lifestyle. One day, maybe, and only if she expressed an interest. Forcing her or tricking her would have disastrous consequences, and for now, she needed to get through this.

“Reyes...I love you,” she murmured, looking down. They rarely said the words to each other, preferring to show rather than tell.

“ _Te amo_ , Laz. Come home to me, okay?”

The brightness of her smile filled his entire world. “Haven't failed to so far. I'll have SAM start the vidfeed when we’re ready to go.” She ended the call, and Reyes scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair before calling down to Kian for food and whiskey. It was going to be a long night.

***

The airdrop went smoothly. The Charlatan watched, transfixed, as the drop streamed from Ryder’s point of view. They joked about her screaming in the fall from the shuttle over Habitat 7, but Reyes had gone down in a shuttle crash. He knew how terrifying it was to be in an uncontrolled drop. That Ryder could not only throw herself into another fall but also joke about it made him proud to have such a strong partner in her.

Seeing the inside of a Remnant structure was incredible. _That_ was what she was doing inside the vaults? Manipulating all that technology, figuring out centuries-old puzzles while fighting defensive bots?

For a little while, he was so impressed that he forgot to be scared for her, entranced as the rest of her squad was by what they were seeing. He was as surprised as they on the revelation of the angara’s origin, never having suspected that they were a created species. Did that make them more attractive to the kett? What would Keema think? Ryder took the briefest of pauses to gather information before pushing ahead to activate the research tower. Part one was complete.

Something had clearly gone horribly wrong in the second tower, the exploration tower. Writhing black spires of what SAM confirmed to be miniature Scourge fields erupted from the floor, shattering the paths and messing with the squad’s shields. Ryder edged too close to one, and the Charlatan held his breath as her barrier sparked and nearly collapsed before she could move to a safer part of the walkway.

“Be careful, woman,” he growled. She couldn't hear him - the feed was only one-way - but he willed the thought to her anyway.

The ambush in the exploration tower didn't take her completely by surprise. The setup was too perfect and she'd clearly encountered similar situations, her purposeful stride slowing as she ducked behind cover. What she _hadn't_ expected was how much the mini-Scourge was disrupting her readings. Swearing poured over the audio channel as Ryder misjudged a biotic blink and shot past cover in the line of fire of an automated turret. The Charlatan swore as well, gripping the edges of the terminal’s platform and leaning closer to the screen as she plowed forward through smaller bots to reach a console and reprogram the automated gun. They both slumped in relief when it started firing on all of the Remnant machines.

“Hang in there, love. Almost to the second tower console,” she reassured him quietly, careful not to use his name in case the transmission was intercepted. He shook his head and snorted a disbelieving laugh. She was the one in danger yet she took a moment to reassure _him_ , safely tucked away in his room in Tartarus. She was something else.

In the console room was another fight and another puzzle in the form of instructions written in Remnant glyphs. He studied them along with her, wondering what they said, what she saw with SAM in her head. She chose the wrong glyph the first time, the same one the Charlatan himself would have chosen, and fought off the floaty bot that appeared before going back to study the pattern again. He could hear her muttering under her breath, but not what she was saying. He turned up the audio. Was she even speaking English? _What the hell?_ He'd known there was something about her connection with SAM that made her special and enabled to her manipulate Remnant tech, but he was starting to suspect it went a lot deeper than mere tricks. 

After looking at it for another minute, she sped around and unlocked all of them in the correct order - which was _not_ the order he would have tried next. _How did she do that?_

“Provisional repairs complete,” SAM announced over the general channel.

“Only one way to find out.” Ryder activated the console and a voice emanated from it. She jumped, clearly surprised. Interesting. This was new then. The Charlatan shifted on his feet, anxiety for her slithering past his control.

“Translating. Flight control systems online. Welcome, Administrator.”

“I don’t like this. We should get out of here.” She looked around sharply, attention drawn to something else when it activated. Crackling electricity sparked outside the room, sigils flashed to life.

“Translating. Exploration vessels on standby...It cannot retrieve commands from the Meridian engine.”

Movement drew Ryder's attention, the camera’s view shifting sharply as she whipped her head around. There were kett deploying outside, in the area she'd just activated, and she whirled to dash out of the room muttering, “They’re going to be trouble.” Her charge out of the room was quickly blocked by an ambush of what were tagged on her heads-up display as a Destroyer, two Nullifiers and several Assemblers. She took them down, not the least bit fazed by the frighteningly mobile tank on legs. He supposed she wouldn’t be after facing an Architect, but still.

They ran out and made it to the intersection that would take them to the central tower when a Kett ship swooped in and dropped troops, including a huge fiend. They were racing to beat her to the central controls, throwing everything they had at her to stop her getting there first. She captured all of the unshielded and unarmored Chosen in a singularity, detonating it to throw them into the depths below the walkway before chasing after those who had gone ahead...only to run into another pack of Remnant. 

A pitched three-way battle ensued. Even in the safety of Tartarus, the Charlatan imagined he could feel the heat of her flamethrower, the electric crackle of her energy drain. Her laughter rang out over the comms, startling him with its savagery. “Forgot about the Remnant, didn’t you? Assholes!” She jetted to the high ground afforded by a walkway and crouched, trying to draw the fiend in to fight the Destroyer that had just appeared. No such luck; the creature's massive, horned paws appeared, dragging the rest of it up. Ryder blinked away, and the Charlatan was relieved to see that the tactics she preferred against the Architect weren’t to be put in use against a fiend. 

She took a hit from a turret as she scrambled to evade both kett and Remnant. Her barrier fell with the tinkling sound of broken glass as she sought the high ground on the opposite side, only to be followed by the relentless fiend. Swearing lit the comm channel between her gasps of breath as she wildly blinked back down and ran away from the fight, trying to put herself out of range of the guns. Again, the fiend followed, and Ryder tried everything to escape it, scrambling off the edge of a platform in a stomach-clenching fall, only to jet up onto a corner extending at a perpendicular angle from the edge she’d just jumped from. The Charlatan’s breath whooshed out of him, his teeth grinding. She was _insane_ , there was no other word for it.

Unfortunately, the beast didn’t take the bait to follow her off the walkway and had her trapped at the end of the platform. She blinked away from it, narrowly dodging the swipe of a huge paw, only to find herself sandwiched between gunfire from behind and the massive monster in front. She blinked back another pace before turning her back to the fiend and running into the combined kett and Remnant fire, jumping, darting, blinking, doing everything she could to avoid a direct hit until she was close enough to drain the shields of an Anointed kett to replenish her barrier. 

With slightly shaky hands, the Charlatan poured two fingers of whiskey, downed it, and poured two more, swirling the amber liquid to comfort himself. His stomach clenched and turned sour around the alcohol as she waded through some sort of fluid that drained her shields to hide behind the main battle, peering out from behind a pillar to throw a singularity into the mix as the Remnant turned their attention to the oncoming kett. 

A bolt of energy passed through the pillar, staggering her, and she turned. More Nullifiers lined up to take shots. And as she maneuvered around them, throwing flames, the fiend returned. The Charlatan forced himself to breathe in slowly through the nose, hold, out slowly through pursed lips. His most valuable asset was completely surrounded in hostile territory, with only two allies against aggressive opposition. They were badly outgunned. The lead in his stomach grew heavier and he sought greater distance. 

_She’s not going to die. Not this time. She can do this_ , he told himself, over and over again, until she was triumphant. When the last enemy fell, trapped in a singularity and burnt to ash by her flamethrower, he smiled savagely, lips pulled wide in a predator’s glee. What an incredible display of courage, strength, strategy, and skill. _And she’s mine_ , he congratulated himself. _This formidable, marvellous valkyrie is mine_. 

Ryder pushed forward into the last tower, moving slower than she had been yet determined to persevere until she had control of Meridian. 

But something was wrong. The component needed didn’t appear to exist. SAM found something, a voice message. “Translating. Final administrator log. The opposition’s weapon may cause widespread damage.” The holo Ryder was looking at showed something - the station they were on? - dropping out of a sphere. “We need to disengage Meridian from command core, which will remain here to draw fire. Meridian contains all the work of the Jardaan. Nothing else matters. I will send it far. We can return one day, continue the process of renewal. End of log.”

The Charlatan was rarely surprised by anything. He usually had all the pieces, knew all the angles. This, however, was even more of a shock than the origins of the angara had been. They had all been outmaneuvered so long ago that anyone who might have remembered it had forgotten.

“The Archon was wrong, this isn’t Meridian. Meridian is gone!” Ryder exclaimed. Not only that, but a kett battleship was incoming, all guns firing. 

“This seems perfectly in line with how everything was going. Meridian’s gone, and now I’m stuck in a kett shitshow. Can I _please_ get a break once in awhile!” she complained, at the end of her rope, and the Charlatan was glad when Drack reeled her in. 

It sparked a fire in her. “We’re fighting. The kett are not taking us. Not today!” He took another deep breath, stirred by her fire, feeling his cock hardening even as he was scared for her life. The things this woman could achieve if allowed to lead more people her own way, if she could lead _his_ people...Kadara would be the capital of an empire. His talents for intrigue and commerce, combined with her military leadership and Remnant manipulation would make them unstoppable in Heleus. It was a dream for a long way from now, but one he knew would haunt him until they achieved it together.

Ryder’s helmet cam tilted as if she had cocked her head to listen to something no-one else could hear. SAM. What was he telling her? “The Remnant defenses! Of course. Use them against the kett!” She scrambled to her feet as fire and debris rained down on them, activating a console across from the main one. The Charlatan held his breath. “SAM! Now!” 

A blinding white light flared to life and spread. He watched in awe as Ryder looked up, seeing multiple anti-ship turrets come alive, take aim, and fire on the kett ship. Within minutes it was down, plowing into the station that wasn’t Meridian, never to rise again. It looked like the kett were being outmaneuvered a second time. 

Of course, the fight wasn’t finished when the kett ship went down. The Charlatan watched as the Pathfinder took on a kett champion, the Archon’s Sword, and fought to clear the kett from the station. 

Suddenly, it was all over. “We did it, love,” Ryder whispered exultantly, her excited voice not matching the slowness with which she trudged back aboard the Tempest. “Now we just have to find Meridian.”

The Charlatan braced his arms against the terminal stand, dropping his head. Adrenaline had peaked and left him trembling as it drained from his system. She was fine. She hadn’t died, although she’d had some close shaves. He wished he could answer her, but all he could do was watch, and listen. 

“I’ll call you in a bit. I need to see what the Nexus has to say about this,” she continued. “SAM, end transmission.” 

The terminal went dark, and the Charlatan raised his glass in an unseen toast, downed it, and collapsed on the couch into an exhausted slumber. It was hard to be the partner of such an exceptional woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryder was fine this time, but what happens in the next chapter? O_o


	16. Pathfinder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder finds the way to Meridian, but falls into the Archon's trap. Reyes can't save her.

“We know you defied us,” Tann lisped. _Always one to state the obvious_ , Ryder snarked internally. “You went for Meridian in direct violation of Initiative orders, even though our reasons were quite clear." He paused, seeming to compose himself, and she wondered what was going to come out of his mouth next. "Yet...you were correct, Ryder. We should have trusted your instincts. You have proven time and again that you deserve the title of Pathfinder. I have never been so glad to be wrong.” 

Well _that_ was a shock. Tann, acknowledging her as Pathfinder? It shouldn't have been as shocking as it was because Tann was the ultimate political opportunist if he saw a chance to spin an event for his own gain, but he had been so stubbornly opposed that this one-eighty spin threw her. Apparently, she'd underestimated how slimy he'd be in the name of political power. Even Reyes had higher standards; yes, he was an opportunist who wouldn't hesitate to use what came his way, but his ultimate goal was the well-being of the people on Kadara. Scott would probably call her naive but in the last few months, she’d come to truly believe in Reyes’ vision of the Collective.

Ryder tried, but couldn’t resist a dig at Tann. The fucking coward of a politician. Him and his caution trying to order everything to his benefit, until her boldness paid off and he had an opportunity to score political capital. “I knew you guys would come around eventually,” she purred, Reyes’ smugly satisfied tones pouring from her mouth like honeyed venom. Tann ignored it, saying that the Initiative would provide whatever support was needed. That was another dramatic change from the usual. Suspicious, because there would be strings attached or an inconvenient reminder later, but not unwelcome. Regardless, Ryder would never forget that it was Reyes who had believed in her, and not the Initiative. She knew who her friends were.

***

It took some work analyzing the Scourge before they could identify a likely path to the real Meridian. Ryder patched Reyes - or, she suspected, the Charlatan - into a feed from her helmet cam again for the return trip. He’d emailed her with congratulations while she was speaking with Tann and expressed a desire to be “kept in the loop” on any further action, which she interpreted as his appreciating being able to keep an eye on things. 

Normally she rebelled against a partner keeping tabs on her, but she'd seen how much her death had affected him. This was different from the ex who insisted she call him and check in every day, or the one who tried to follow her. She and Reyes were partners; she trusted him to spot things she missed in the moment and to act as a safety net if needed, especially given the lack of, or political-motivated and therefore unreliable, support from the Nexus. She wouldn't stream her missions every time, but Meridian would have a direct effect on Kadara. She was invested there now, more than anywhere else. If there was a chance the Archon might target it based on her actions at Meridian, she wanted Reyes to be able to salvage as much as he could. The situation was life and death, in more ways than one. After their conversation in Vortex she also didn't trust Scott to accede to her request for him to contact Reyes should she or the Tempest go down, or to do so honestly, and knew her team wouldn't be able to give him the level of information he both craved and needed to make his myriad plans. She wouldn't want to put them in a position of moral quandry anyway. Her choice to ally herself with a known criminal was just that - hers.

So here they were, back on the control station with Reyes riding shotgun remotely, hoping to find a way to Meridian. If there was ever a fitting role for a Pathfinder, this was it. “Tempest, we’re going in.” She took a deep breath, sensing that this wasn’t going to be easy and wondering what Reyes was thinking. The vid feed only went one way because it was easier for SAM to encrypt, but it was probably for the best. Hearing his rich, sensual voice in her ear during a mission would probably get her killed by distraction.

There was a new path to follow now that the station was partially activated, and more Remnant to battle in greater numbers, seeming to fight more fiercely, if that was possible for machines. “We must be close to the controls we need,” Ryder said aloud, partly for Reyes’ benefit. “Let’s move. One last Remnant door.”

They made it through. “Right. Let’s...find a path.” She input the vector they’d calculated, willing the Remnant ships to find Meridian. Find the key to ending kett ambitions in Heleus and give her a chance at making a home with Reyes. The Remnant lifted off, the blue-white triangular flares of their profiles looking tiny next to the orange-tinged black vastness of the Scourge, and found a path, just as she’d asked. “They’re getting through to...something,” she narrated to Reyes. 

“Meridian, Pathfinder,” SAM confirmed. 

Meridian, if that’s indeed what it was, was a massive, perfectly spherical construct with no discernible break in the geometric panels forming its outer layer. What the hell?

“Data’s strange. It’s saying it’s hollow,” Vetra supplied. SAM provided more information. “A self-contained seed vault. It is the heart of the vault network, and when reactivated, every connected planet will be affected. It is the means to make Heleus a home, Pathfinder.” _Home._ A place she could be with Reyes, in peace. 

Ryder barely had time to celebrate before the Archon’s voice intruded. “Congratulations, Pathfinder. A great day for us all.”

No. No, no, no. Not him, not now, not here. They were so close. She was almost home. 

She froze as the back of her head started to itch. Something wasn’t right. Excruciating pain shot through her, flaring from the SAM implant at the base of her skull and shooting through every nerve. In a flash, she thought she saw the Archon, not just heard his voice. Her brain felt like it was sparking, short-circuiting. 

“What is - urgh - going on?” she grunted out, screaming as everything went white. She fell to her knees, then staggered back up to her feet. Her mind felt strangely empty, as if…

SAM was gone. 

Crippling, paralyzing fear rolled over her. She remembered waking up in SAM node and Lexi telling her that their connection had been hardwired to save her life, that they were bound too closely to safely separate now. Remembered SAM explaining that they had a symbiotic relationship, each of them relying on the other for survival. If he was gone, was would that mean for her?

Agony, apparently. Convulsing with every step, she tried to make it to the door. They had to get out of here. They had to stop him. The Archon’s voice taunted her. Another flash of white, like a flash grenade going off in her head, blanking her vision and making her ears ring. Could Reyes still hear her? Did he know what had happened? 

The door slammed shut, no longer recognizing her presence without SAM. Console. She had to reach the console. They had to get out. They had to stop the Archon. 

Another convulsion shook her and she fell to her knees again. The Archon whispered in her ear, intimate as Reyes but a thousand times more menacing.

“All I need to start is an implant. Fall to darkness, Pathfinder. You were almost worthy.” Ryder collapsed, her last thoughts equally panicked for her brother, who the Archon was surely targeting, and for Reyes, who would probably try to avenge her and die in the attempt.

###

The video glitched, static cutting through and audio scrambling before resuming. The Charlatan was immediately concerned. Ryder's feed ran through military-grade hardware and frequencies. It hadn't cut out once during the heavy fighting on her last visit to the control station, and there were no visible threats now. Something was terribly wrong. 

Then a longer cut in the visual feed as he heard Ryder gasp out, “What is going on?” She sounded afraid, panicked. While fighting beside her on Kadara and watching her remotely in other battles, he’d never heard her like this. She was always steady and confident, on the outside at least. Already on full alert, his nerves stretched further as his mind raced to figure out what was happening. She was being attacked somehow, by something or someone he couldn't see. 

She screamed in pain, agony even, the sound cutting the Charlatan to the core. The feed was lost to static a moment later.

“No!” he shouted, smacking the terminal once, twice, a third time for good measure. None of it brought the vid back. Against protocol, he tried to call through to her omnitool, certain she'd pick up if she was alright. No answer. His stomach tried to rise up and strangle him as he tried again with no result. Something had happened to the Pathfinder, and he might be the only one in a position to do something about it. But how? 

Leaving the terminal buzzing with static, he paced the room. Shoved a table over to burn off some energy. What had happened? Was she okay, or even alive? What could he do?

Coming to the table remaining upright, he leaned against it, head down, palms flat, and legs spread. Forced himself to breathe past the pit in his stomach. Whatever had happened, he wasn't there. He couldn't fix it. He couldn't save her. Contacting the Nexus wasn’t an option; they weren’t taking calls from exiles and his angaran agents hadn’t built up enough connections yet to reach anyone who could make a decision. Tann would probably abandon her, anyway; he hadn't wanted Ryder to take this mission to begin with and still had three other Pathfinders. He needed to trust that her team could resolve the situation, if it was possible, and focus on what he could do for rose of his people he _could_ help - the Collective, and Kadara. 

He gathered the cold, leaden feeling in his belly and pushed it outward, imagining the ice of Voeld flowing through him, chilling his passions. He'd be of no use to anyone focusing on whether the Pathfinder lived or died half the galaxy away. But what he could do was think logically about who would attack her. Even if it didn't fully support her, the Nexus wasn't completely against her, if her last email was to be believed. The Remnant either answered to her or generated bots to fight her on the spot. The Outcasts were scattered and unsophisticated, and the angara were allies, for now. The Collective he ruled with an iron fist where Ryder was concerned. That left only one faction in Heleus with the desire, means, and resources to affect the Pathfinder like this. He opened a scrambled comm channel, the one he used as the Charlatan on Collective business, to Keema.

“The Pathfinder is down,” he said emotionlessly, certain he was correct. “The Archon is going to make a move. Gather all Collective operatives willing and able to fight for Kadara in any capacity. Get them armed and armored, and find ships that can jump systems if needed. Await further orders." He assumed the Archon would go after Meridian if he did move, but there were too many unknowns just now. "Questions?”

Normally Keema would have needled or pried. For once, the woman was all business. “Do you know anything else about the nature of the threat or the target?” she asked briskly.

“No. But the Pathfinder discovered something valuable to him and was attacked and incapacitated moments later. My best guess is that he’s going after the Pathfinder's discovery, but there’s a chance he could try to take out colonies on the way or try to cripple the Nexus first.”

“We’ll be slaughtered if he comes here. The surface to air weapons aren’t ready yet.”

“Then we’d better hope he goes after the Nexus, hadn’t we?” he responded icily. 

“Yes, sir,” Keema replied. “Will we be going to their aid if he does?”

A fair question. The Charlatan weighed the pros and cons. He’d almost certainly lose people, ships, and resources, but it was also a chance to show the Initiative that the exiles weren’t all petty thieves and rioters. He could use it as leverage to negotiate greater access to the station for exiles, allowing him to plant more agents from Milky Way species - especially in the chaos an attack on the station would create. If the Pathfinder was dead or out of commission for an extended period, he'd need more sources of intel to make up for the gap she left. It would take time for them to climb the ranks and fully infiltrate the Nexus, so those plans needed to be set in motion now. 

“Yes, but keep some FTL-capable ships in reserve in case evacuation is necessary.” He owed Keema no explanation. She was his subordinate in this, even if they were friends in calmer times. He decided to share his thoughts anyway. If something happened to him, he wanted his plans to continue. “It will bring the Collective to their attention sooner than I'd planned, but we won't get a better opportunity to show ourselves in a positive light. I can use it to negotiate terms later. I want more agents on the Nexus, as soon as possible.”

“Understood. Forces will be assembled. Who do you want leading them?”

There was only one option in this case. “I'll lead them myself. Not as the Charlatan. As an agent. You have full command on Kadara in my absence. Take whatever steps you deem necessary to defend it.”

Her silence said she disagreed. “Is there a problem, Keema?” he asked, voice dangerously quiet.

“No, sir.”

Amazing. Angara could swallow their feelings, after all. “Then get moving,” he ordered coldly, closing the line. For a moment he sat in silence, gathering all of his rage, fear, and anxiety into a ball, cramming it into a mental box, and shoving it aside. He had to be the Charlatan completely. There was no room for Reyes now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still reading, thank you! Bear with me a while longer before the fluffy smutty stuff returns. The last five chapters will be full of it, but for now, Ryder and Reyes need to pass through fire.


	17. QEC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott has to save his sister, and Reyes has to make the most of the chance Ryder has given them.

“Hello, Scott.”

Scott froze in the middle of directing traffic on the Nexus. “SAM?” Dread washed over him. From what little Lazuli had told him, only one person could hear SAM’s private channel at a given time. For that to happen, the previous Pathfinder had to be...no. Not Laz. She couldn’t be dead. She was a wild, reckless, incorrigible, often embarrassing and unprofessional person, but she was a damn good fighter with great strategic instincts. “How are you -” No. Ask the more pertinent question first. “What’s going on? All we know is, we’re being overrun.” 

“Kett forces are sweeping the ship. They’re looking for you.” _Oh, shit_. “Scott, the Pathfinder needs your help.” A small shot of relief with a dash of hope. She wasn’t dead, just severed from SAM somehow. “If basic function isn’t manually restored, she will die.” The relief crashed and burned.

“What?” he asked, confused. _And then I’ll have to explain to her dickhead exile boyfriend what happened. Fuck that._ SAM directed him to a weapons depot and he ran, demanding info. 

“The Archon isn’t stealing the Hyperion, Scott. He wants you and me. Your implant is the same as the Pathfinder’s. He’ll use us to control Meridian, and your sister will die.” The coldness of SAM’s mechanical voice cut through him like razors. 

“The Archon will kill her?”

SAM’s next words sent a chill down his spine. “No. Losing me will. I am sorry I can’t help you fight. I took over too much of your sister’s implant, and using me will kill her.” Was she that tightly integrated with the AI? Harry had reluctantly told him, late one evening, that Laz’s clinical death had forced a tighter connection with SAM than was healthy, or had been previously attempted. Scott now understood why. While the AI’s loyalty to Laz was both startling and appreciated, Scott couldn’t help but feel concerned about the fact that she would die if disconnected from it.

He tried asking SAM questions, but all it would say was, “Hurry, Scott,” the monotone somehow sounding urgent. Could machines care for their hosts? What had they been through together, that SAM was so attached to his sister?

The cluster of kett he ran into was somehow unexpected. He was still rusty, weak from laying in a coma for weeks and not quite back to full capacity. Fortunately, he encountered Captain Dunn. The small woman sent him through the access passages, helping him clear a path. First SAM, now the implacable Captain, determined to risk everything for Laz. 

No. For the Pathfinder. He’d been reluctant to grant his sister the title up to now, certain that her usual patterns of irresponsibility and instability would assert themselves and cause her to become a pariah. He’d watched it happen in the Milky Way, seen her take a promising path as a peacekeeper and throw it all to shit. Part of the reason he’d followed their father into the Andromeda Initiative was that he knew her sense of protectiveness toward him would draw her to follow, too. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to save her from her own clusterfucks, and it allowed him to kill two birds with one stone: have a chance to get to know their father, and get his sister out of a rapidly deteriorating situation without damaging her pride. 

Then he’d woken up in Andromeda, with Laz telling him via SAM that their father was dead. He’d resented her for that, both for having had time with him here, however brief, and for being the cause of his death. The fact that she’d worked hard enough to win over Captain Dunn, though, was making him start to reconsider.

“SAM, the captain won’t last. What are we doing?”

“Manually sending a signal. It will reset your sister’s implant.” 

He finally reached the QEC. “One pulse, Scott. That’s all the Pathfinder needs.”

Realization struck, setting its hooks into him. “And it probably alerts the Archon. He’ll know where I am.”

“I am sorry.” Could an AI be sorry? Did it know the feelings behind the words? He felt a moment of hopeless rage. Was he about to sacrifice himself for her, as their father had? For what? For a sister who had gotten herself into trouble, time and again, throwing away every chance she’d ever gotten to make something of herself? What had she done to earn this?

He hung his head in shame, suddenly remembering every time she’d stood up for him as children. Every time she’d taken the blame for one of his few missteps, and taken the punishment for it, too. Mouth tightly shut in a thin line, aquamarine eyes glaring at him, daring him to confess. He never had. She was the troublemaker. He was the good twin. But he’d let her take the penalties for what blunders he had made, whether it was grounding from their mother or a fight with the school bully - or both, as the case occasionally had been. Somehow he'd forgotten all of that over the last few years, started seeing only her mistakes and not the nobility that sometimes drove her to make them.

“Me too SAM, me too.” Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Two kett leveled weapons at him, shouting something he didn’t understand. He pushed the button that would send the signal. 

###

A thudding noise. Shouting, the sound of a krogan raging. More thudding. Vetra’s voice, subvocals twanging sharply in obvious distress. “Tempest, the Pathfinder is down, come in!” 

Ryder had never heard the proud, capable turian plead before. _Poor Vetra. You adopted the wrong little sister. Take care of Sid. She has so much potential to be a good person. More than I ever had._ She focused her thoughts on Reyes, tried to, but Anubis kept intruding. The jackal-headed god with her lover’s body waited, hands held loosely at his sides, regarding her with the same steady golden gaze that Reyes affected when he was caught up in the Charlatan. _Will you judge me now, Anubis? Is it time? Will I live forever in the Field of Reeds, or be devoured?_

A spark hit her. Painful, electric, beautiful. Anubis faded as life flooded back into her. She gasped, her lungs feeling painfully empty, and sat up. The part of her mind where SAM resided was still dark, but _something_ must have happened if she was awake. Where were they? What was happening? 

Meridian. They’d found Meridian, but the Archon had been watching. Waiting in the shadows to steal her victory from her. And Reyes...oh no. Reyes had been linked to her helmet feed via SAM. Must have seen the last moments before she collapsed and thought her dead. Oh, no. Even as the Charlatan he had been hard-pressed to remain objectively distant the last time he’d found out she’d died. What had he done when she fell? 

She toggled the command to resume the feed on her omnitool, praying that it wasn’t too late and that somehow it would reach him without SAM.

###

The Charlatan was scouring reports, looking for any clues that might hint at the Pathfinder’s fate and trying to get a view of kett fleet movement. It looked like they were heading to the Nexus. No ships had appeared at Kadara, for which he was grateful. The Collective were in a position to assist, but not to defend.

The staticky screen of his terminal screeched and he looked up, an intent ferocity filling him. He was still linked to the Pathfinder’s connection, refusing to believe that she was dead. He’d _know_ if she was gone for good. Somehow, in some stupidly superstitious corner of his mind, he was certain that he would _know_. 

Drack’s voice came through. “Ryder, you were dead!” 

The Charlatan shot up from the couch and was at the terminal in three long steps. She was alive. Hurting, badly, perhaps mortally, from the way she was collapsed against one of those Remnant consoles, but she was alive.

“The Hyperion’s dark,” she gasped out. “SAM with it. We need to get back.” It sounded like every breath hurt, and the Charlatan steeled himself further. He couldn’t afford emotion now. Logic, he needed logic. If SAM was dark, she was reaching him on a feed that was likely unencrypted. He wasn’t the best hacker in the Collective, but he knew enough to reroute the feed through a virtual private network. It wasn’t foolproof, but at least it would keep casual eavesdroppers from easily picking it up. His fingers flew over the terminal’s interface as he put it in place, then set up a second and bounced it through that as well. It wouldn't be secure from her end, but it was the criminals on his end that he was worried about.

Vetra was arguing with the Pathfinder when he turned his attention back to the feed. “The console is Remnant. You _need_ SAM!” 

“We _need_ to get _back_ ,” the Pathfinder snarled, animalistic in her pain and urgency. Slowly, her suffering evident even over video, she raised her left hand over the console. The triangular panels in it rippled sluggishly before locking up and resetting. The cam shuddered and fell over the console as she collapsed, making a strangled noise of pain.

“Your vitals are a mess,” Drack cautioned. “You sure this is a good idea?”

The Charlatan agreed. This was risky, too risky. But as before, the feed was one-sided and his whispered orders for her to stop, to find another way, went unheard and unheeded.

The Pathfinder tried again to force it. “I can do this,” she whispered, clearly gearing herself up for more pain. For long moments she lay against the console, panting.

“Dammit, Ryder, stop!” the Charlatan shouted as she raised her hand again, leaning in toward the screen as if force of will alone could convey the message to her across lightyears.

The console rippled...and the door opened. _What in the...she can operate Remnant tech without an AI assist?_ The Charlatan was rocked back, shocked. He’d known, when he heard her muttering words that weren’t English - or any human language, for that matter - that something was significantly changed in her. Something had taken her beyond being human. This was the proof. 

Vetra’s dual-toned voice cut in, concern thrumming through her subvocals. “Damn...are you sure you can keep going?” Viewing the unsteady wobbling of her helmet cam, the Charlatan wondered the same thing. As if to make a point, the Pathfinder stumbled into an uneven run. _Stop pushing yourself so hard, you crazy woman!_

Audio static as her crew reconnected. “We’re here, Tempest,” she answered wearily. There was a noise as if two people were fighting over the mic on the other end. “Pathfinder!” Was that Suvi’s voice? “The kett took down the comms and hijacked the Hyperion!” So, not just an attack, but a theft as well. The Charlatan hadn’t thought the Pathfinder could sound any more exhausted until she acknowledged that she knew, that the Archon had been planning since her attack on his flagship. “He used me,” she said bitterly, and the Charlatan winced as he remembered her reaction to his own usage of her. The Archon was in for a bad time if she made it back.

Drack broke in again, ordering the Tempest to have the doctor standing by. The Charlatan was grateful to the old man for looking after her when she refused to look after herself, making a mental note to have a case of ryncol anonymously delivered to the Tempest the next time it was on Kadara. 

As anxious as he was for the Pathfinder’s safety and well-being, the Charlatan pushed through his personal feelings and focused on the intel. The kett were mobilizing. All of their ships were moving to the Hyperion and then, presumably, to Meridian, the key to saving or destroying every habitable world in the Heleus cluster. Eos would be first, and the Charlatan felt no guilt in his relief that Kadara would have time to prepare and evacuate if necessary. 

The Pathfinder finally made it out of the vault. Her cam picked up Lexi running toward her, obviously concerned. The doctor started scanning the Pathfinder before she’d even skidded to a halt. 

“You need to stop doing this,” the asari scolded sharply. The Charlatan agreed wholeheartedly. Ryder, though obviously still in pain if her short gasps of breath were any indication, was short and hostile with Lexi. _Don’t do this, Pathfinder_ , the Charlatan scolded in his head. _I know it hurts, but you need to let her help. You need to come back alive._

He went unheeded, as ever. Ryder stubbornly demanded news on the ark. Her assembled team expressed various degrees of hopelessness, rage, frustration - but no plan. Ryder paced, the movement both halting and restless, juddering the camera in a way that would have made the Charlatan feel ill if he hadn’t been a pilot before he was anything else. 

“He has SAM, he has ships, but I’m still able to...do something,” Ryder muttered to herself, completely ignored by her team as they debated in the background. The view of the cam fell on a Remnant console. _Don’t do it, Pathfinder…_

She forced the console, everyone in the background falling silent as it activated. An impossibly huge Remnant structure started to rise out of the ground, launching hordes of black, triangular ships of varying sizes. The cam shifted as Ryder pulled off her helmet and tucked it under her arm in such a way that he could still see. He could also still hear the way she was panting desperately for breath. She had to be hurting, terribly. She hadn't sounded that bad even when she'd been stabbed and poisoned on Elaaden.

“You...did...an impossible thing,” Peebee breathed, echoing the Charlatan’s thoughts as he hung his head. He was watching her choose to kill herself, and couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t save her. But had to hope that whatever she did, it would be enough to save Kadara. Never before had he felt so torn, hopeless and hopeful at the same time. 

“Can you keep that up? Have them fight for us?” Cora asked, intently. When had she started to believe in Ryder? The former commando had always been transparently jealous and resentful of the Pathfinder before. 

The question inspired the assembled team. Suddenly instead of frustration and defeat, the discussion was of hope and vengeance. 

“I just pulled a front line out of thin air,” the Pathfinder snapped. “With all our friends supporting that, we can _beat_ the Archon. It’ll be enough!”

“We have to try,” Cora said. Why was she looking at Ryder so sadly? What wasn’t he seeing? 

“Is this where I give a speech?” Ryder asked with a small laugh. “Ask you to die for me? No thanks. I say we throw the Remnant down the Archon’s throat, and maybe that buys us a chance. _All_ of us,” she continued, and the Charlatan felt she was speaking to him. Including the Collective and the exiles in her hopes and plans. “We get the whole cluster to pile on. Everyone in Heleus has earned some fucking payback.”

As she strode back to the Tempest, the Pathfinder raised the helmet and turned it to face her. “Heard that? We’re coming. We _will_ beat him back.”

She killed the feed, but not before the Charlatan’s stomach clenched to see the smears of blood under her nose and ears. Whatever she’d done had caused hemorrhaging. Given the situation with SAM, probably in her brain. 

“What have you done?” the Charlatan whispered to the darkened screen. What was the cost to her, for the merest chance of saving them all? 

_No_. He couldn’t think about that now. He had to make the most of the chance she’d given them. The room took on an orange tint as he opened his omnitool.

“Keema!” he barked when his call connected. “The Archon is headed for the Hyperion first, then a target called Meridian. Ready whatever ships we have for launch within the hour. Any that aren’t ready should stay behind and prepare to defend against kett incursions in case we fail.”

“Affirmative, sir,” Keema confirmed. The Collective was going to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang tight! The next chapter is a mix of action, angst, fluff, and even a dash of smut.


	18. Remnant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder feels defeated but heads to Meridian anyway. Reyes meets her there...and it's a good thing he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A liiiiitle bit of smut crawled into this one. Also angst. Some hurt/comfort. I don't know, a bit of everything.

“I have a cocktail of meds to keep you peak,” Lexi promised. “The comedown will hurt worse than anything the Archon can do.” _Greeeat_ , Ryder groaned in her head as she extended her arm for the shot, wincing as the pinch of the needle warred with the stabbing in her head. At this point, anything that would stop the constant, debilitating _pounding_ of her brain so that she could focus enough on the upcoming fight long enough to survive it and keep her promise to come home to Reyes would be worth it. Pain was temporary, after all, unless it killed you, and this pain would kill her if she had to go into battle with it. 

She sighed in relief as the mixture hit her, easing the thundering agony ricocheting between her temples. “Thanks, Lexi,” she breathed.

“Go get some rest. You’ll need everything you’ve got to get your brother back.”

Ryder nodded soberly. They’d gotten the news that Scott had been captured on the Hyperion as soon as they’d dropped into the Zheng He system and immediately changed course for the Saajor system, where they’d plotted Meridian to be. If they were going to stop the Archon, it would have to be there.

She turned and left, her mood sinking along with her pain as she slowly made her way to her quarters, wondering how she’d failed so badly. Maybe Reyes could tell her. He’d watched the whole thing, or most of it at least. Sluggishly, she tapped her omnitool to make the connection to him and fell into bed.

“Ryder?” 

His anxious voice slipped into her soul, curling around it and squeezing. “Reyes,” she sighed, even though she strongly suspected he was the Charlatan just now. He’d used her name rather than calling her Pathfinder as he tended to do when trying to find some distance, but his voice was too flat to be entirely himself. Either way, she wished she was with him, in his arms, rather than curled up alone in her bed, holding herself and fighting back miserable, pained tears.

“Are you...alright?” he asked hesitantly. Probably because he knew she wasn’t but was trying to give her space to answer for herself. 

“No,” she admitted dejectedly, Lexi's med cocktail making her more honest with her feelings than usual. She swallowed hard enough for it to be audible, choking on the lump in her throat and trying not to sob out loud. “I’m sorry I let everyone down. I’m sorry that the Archon was able to find Meridian.”

“Ryder!” he protested sharply, a dark warning in his voice. She pushed on, the drugs Lexi had given her making her numb. “It’s my fault Kadara isn’t safe, now. You should just...find someone else.” She stopped, sinking into a deep silence that lasted for a few seconds.

“Are you done?” he said harshly. That broke through and she flinched, a tear leaking from the corner of her eye. She let it fall. He was definitely the Charlatan, now. Good. She deserved his coldness, and didn’t answer. He continued in a brisk, no-nonsense tone. “That is the last I want to hear of that talk. You failed _no-one_. The Archon was coming for us all sooner or later. Now we know where he’ll be. We know what he’s after. You found Meridian and gave us a chance to make Heleus livable. Sharing the vidfeed with me allowed me to prepare defenses for Kadara and assemble a force that can help you fight at Meridian. _We can do this_ , Ryder. With all the connections you’ve built up, all the alliances you’ve cemented both on and off the Nexus, we have a fighting chance. And the Collective stands with you.”

They were nearly the same words she’d pitched to Cora with a semblance of confidence an hour before. She hadn’t believed them then, but the driving certainty of the Charlatan, his promise of support, kindled hope in her. The tears that fell now were born of gratitude. He wasn’t leaving her. He wasn’t punishing her or disappointed in her. He was supporting her yet again, even in her darkest, hardest moment. 

“I needed that,” she whispered. “You’re the only person who’s ever believed in me, in the Milky Way or here. Everyone keeps waiting for me to fuck up, again, and you just wait for me to come home. Whatever it is you see in me...you’re the only one. And it gives me strength.”

“Ryder…” he sighed in a softer tone. “I will _always_ have faith in you. And I will always be here to kick your ass into line when you need it. You’re...the light to my shadows. I just need you to stay alive.” They said nothing for long moments, each comforted by the sound of the other breathing. “How are you?” he asked gently. 

She swallowed again. “How much did you see?”

“Enough. The feed cut out when SAM was severed from you, but it worked when you reconnected it. Ryder...I saw the blood.” 

“It’s bad, Reyes. It hurts. A lot. Lexi gave me some kind of drug cocktail, and it helps a bit, but everything still hurts.” He didn’t answer. “I wish you were here,” she said in a small voice, not wanting to make him feel worse than she was sure he was already feeling but unable to stop the wish from leaving her lips. 

“So do I, _amor_. Do you know what I’d do if I was there?”

"What?” she asked, wanting the distraction. 

“I’d start by getting you naked, of course." 

“Of course,” she agreed, liking this already. 

“Then onto the bed, face down, for a massage. Running my hands over your body, kneading and rubbing out all the knots that armor leaves in your shoulders and back. Straddling you so that I can kiss your neck as I do it, wanting you to feel how hard it was making me to have you under my hands. When your body was nice and relaxed, I’d turn you over and kiss you. First on the mouth, to taste you, then on your neck, to hear you moan. I’d suck on your nipple to make you gasp and kiss my way down to that lovely pussy of yours. Spread you open wide, and kiss you there too. Not just kiss, though. I’d worship you, licking your clit and…” 

She listened intently, undoing and wiggling out of her trousers, as his voice wrapped her in love and desire, detailing what he’d be doing with his tongue, his lips, his fingers. Reached between her legs to touch herself, rubbing her clit, seeking release. 

__“I’d drink your juices when you came on my face, and then it would be time to fuck you. Hard, because you’d already be wet and wanting it, no?”_ _

__“Yes, yessss, please, Reyes…” Ryder groaned. She could feel her orgasm rising, just out of reach. She needed him to continue._ _

“I thought so. Now, because I miss you so much, just this once I wouldn’t tease you. I would pin your wrists over your head and push my achingly ready cock into you. It feels so good to be deep inside you, _amor_ , moving against you as you clench around me. I’d bite your neck as I fucked you, taking you harder and faster every time I pushed back in. Again, and again, and again, until your moans became a scream of my name.” 

__She came as he described how they’d both climax, how he’d empty himself inside her, moaning his name into the channel._ _

__“Better now?” he purred._ _

__“Yes. Thanks, love. I’ll see you soon,” she murmured as she fell asleep, shifting slightly to move away from the tear-dampened part of the pillow. They always did do better with sex than feelings._ _

__***_ _

__“Pathfinder? We’ve arrived.”_ _

Suvi’s voice woke her and she experienced a moment of confusion as she looked around the empty room. Where was Reyes? Where was SAM? Far away and gone, the both of them. Groggy and sad, she shook off the remains of sleep and got dressed. Put on her confident mask and hauled herself up to the bridge for another round of shit-talking with the Archon, trying not to be distracted by Scott’s warnings from the background and check-ins from a surprising and encouraging number of incoming ships representing parties from around the cluster. _This fucker took my baby brother_ , she thought savagely. _Nobody hurts my Scott, even if he is a jerk sometimes. Nobody._

__The Archon sent his fleet at her, and the Remnant moved to defend of their own accord. Kallo danced the unarmed Tempest out of the way. Their allies called for direction as the kett hemmed them in, flanking them and using the Scourge to trap them._ _

One of the few things she’d taken in from her father echoed through her mind: _When your back’s against the wall, if you can’t run from it, use it_. “Stop running, and use it,” she muttered. 

__Kallo was up to the challenge when she ordered him to use the Scourge to their advantage. Her Remnant fleet ran with her, all of them skimming the electric blackness. Joyous cries rang out over the comm as the kett hit the Scourge and the Archon ran, plunging the Hyperion down into the core of Meridian. The sphere rippled and opened before the ark, and Kallo sent the Tempest chasing after it. Ryder ducked into the armory to gear up before heading to the Nomad._ _

__“Hard drop in five...four...three…” Gil’s countdown echoed through her mind, a counterpoint to the pain that was slowly returning to Ryder’s brain. The harsh thud of the rover hitting the ground sent a jarring jolt up her spine, and she gritted her teeth behind her helmet before roaring off after the Hyperion, now visible against Meridian’s inexplicably blue skies. They had to reach it first._ _

__“We’ll guard the Hyperion,” a male turian said over the open channel._ _

__“Kandros? Who’s with you?” she demanded._ _

__“The whole damn cavalry.” Ryder choked a startled gasp at Reyes’ smooth, cocky words. He’d come with the Collective fleet, to fight with her in person? He had that much confidence in her that he’d risk himself instead of sending one of his lieutenants to lead the Collective forces?_ _

__A motley bunch of mismatched ships flew overhead. One of the shuttles dropped down just far enough in front of the rover to avoid hitting her with engine backwash and waggled before darting back up to the front of the pack. Reyes, showing off to raise her spirits, as if he hadn’t already just by being there. It had to be. Her heart soared along with him and she gunned the Nomad’s engine, trying to keep up as he led the way._ _

__Other ships checked in. She recognized Evfra’s voice, and possibly the Moshae. There was no time to admire the shockingly verdant landscape as she pushed her little golden tank for more speed, striving to keep up with the Collective shuttles flying vanguard and catch up to the Hyperion, driven to go still faster when Captain Dunn called with a warning._ _

__It was a harrowing drive, especially when the Archon sent larger ships to fire on them, but she had dozens of eyes in the sky to screen her and provide guidance. The Tempest’s call for allies had yielded more than she could have hoped, and more kept joining. Everyone really did want a piece of this fucker._ _

__The mixed group of ships from the Collective swarmed one of the smaller kett ships, taking it down. “Debris incoming!” Kallo shouted._ _

__“Sorry for the mess,” Reyes purred, sounding entirely pleased with himself and not at all sorry. Despite the tenseness of their mad dash to the Hyperion and the pain in her head and nerves, Ryder felt herself smiling. She was roaring across the surface of a green new world, however artificial, and her love was defending her from the sky. It felt more like a game than a battle._ _

__Her squad was forced to abandon the Nomad when they came to some half-buried structures. A monolith rose nearby - was it Meridian control? Had to be. They fought through a platoon of kett guarding the entrance, the adrenaline of the fight overriding her pain. Kandros’ militia and the angara Resistance checked in as support when more dropships arrived._ _

__So did Reyes. “Always up for the adventure...or whatever this is,” he grumbled. Ryder laughed, unable to help herself. He never backed down from a fight, but his style was much more independent, more cloak-and-dagger than this. Yet here he was, coordinating with everyone else and arranging his forces as if he’d been born to military command. The man was a wonder. She needed to find out what he'd done before coming to Andromeda and becoming the Charlatan._ _

__Turian militia and krogan heavies dropped from inbound shuttles to bolster her small squad, allowing Ryder to break through to the monolith. As she approached the door, she heard the assembled calls of more allies. Avitus checked in, the engines of his nimble little fighter screaming overhead as he entered dogfights with kett ships. Hayjer was firing heavy weapon blasts from the open hatch of a shuttle with the Moshae casting an electric defensive shield. Vederia formed a blockade with two other asari shuttles, knocking multiple kett fighters out of the sky with a targeted biotic burst. “Take the fight inside, Pathfinder. We’ll protect the Hyperion, but that only matters if you can catch the Archon,” Hayjer urged._ _

__For the first time in her life, Ryder felt like she was truly a leader, not just a lucky fuck-up in a position of power. She didn’t know how it had happened, but Reyes had been right. She had this._ _

__***_ _

__Every piece of Remtech Ryder had to manipulate to reach the core of the monolith was agony. Every door, every console, sapped her strength. She finally stopped taking her helmet off to rub the blood away from her nose, ignoring the itch as it flowed over her lips and down her chin._ _

__There was another three-way fight between the kett, the Remnant, and the allied fighters. She pushed through, trying not to think about how tired she was. One of the Archon’s Ascendants appeared, but between her squad and Morda’s krogan reinforcements, it was quickly defeated._ _

__At one point, when every breath was stabbing at her lungs, Reyes’ voice came to her over the comms. “Shoring up defenses, Ryder. You okay in there?” She made sure she was on their private channel. “I’m still alive. Still keeping my promise.”_ _

__“Good,” he said softly. “I’ll be waiting for you.”_ _

__They pushed ahead, following the trail Scott opened for them. Her heart sank when they made it to the central chamber. Scott was strapped to a chair, screaming as he fought a mental battle with the Archon, who called up an Architect and scores of bots to distract her as he wrestled with Scott and SAM for control of Meridian. She powered through and defended against the Remnant until Scott was able to activate a console to draw power away from him. Knives stabbed through her mind as she forced it. Her squad fought forward, dodging machine gun fire and cluster grenades shot by the Architect, desperately huddling in the shelter of pillars while Observers tried to drive her out of cover. Another console. Razors sliced at her brain, and blood ran from her nose in a steady crimson dribble, unseen behind her helmet but sticking uncomfortably to her chin. Drack and Vetra scrambled with her, battling to the final console._ _

Ryder was afraid to activate it, terrified of more pain, but Reyes, Scott, and everyone in Heleus would die if she didn’t. She extended her hand, unable to stop tears of misery from flowing down her cheeks to mingle with the blood from her nose. Compelled her brain into that funny alignment that the Remnant consoles responded to. Choked on a scream as a thousand icy hatchets hacked and tore at the inside of her head. She felt the sticky itch of blood as it ran down both sides of her neck and along the line of her throat. _It hurt so much_ , but it was done. 

With a roar, the Archon tried to disengage himself from the cables connecting him to Meridian, but it was too late. He was fried. _Die, you bloody son of a varren-fucking bastard_ , Ryder thought with satisfaction as he writhed and fell motionless to the floor. They’d done it. It was finally over - for now. There was just one more thing to do. The agony nearly broke Ryder in two as she instructed Meridian to spread _life_ in Heleus. 

__Somehow, she, her squad, and her twin staggered out of the control center. Laz was supporting Scott as much as he was supporting her, each of them drained by their ordeal and finding an odd connection in the experience that brought them closer than they’d been in years._ _

They had barely had time to take of in the assembled crowd of allies before the Nexus wanted to know what came next. _Fuck it, bury them in data_ , she thought. “Send them what we’ve seen here, everything we’ve learned. We have a future to plan,” Ryder said hoarsely, straightening and pulling off her helmet. She would give anything to sit down just now, but looking weak wouldn’t get anything done. 

The crowd cheered her, and she blushed, completely overwhelmed and unaccustomed to so much positive attention. A row behind the front was Reyes. He winked at her flustered response to the cheers before slipping off, putting on a brave face but clearly worried about her. _Bastard_ , she thought fondly, wanting him. 

__It took a while, but she managed to extract herself from the crowd and trudged up a hill, dragging herself with one heavy step after another. Whatever Lexi had given her had started wearing off long before and if she was going to collapse, she wanted to do it in peace. She hadn’t seen where the Tempest had landed, hadn’t been able to spot any of her crew in the celebrating crowd, and really, deep down, just wanted to be alone with Reyes. Hopefully, she’d be able to spot his shuttle from the hilltop._ _

Finding him when she reached the top, sat on the edge of his shuttle’s open entry hatch, was almost a surprise. Would have been, had they not been so similar in looking for the perfect spot for a quick escape. He stood immediately when she came into view, holstering the pistol he’d probably drawn as soon as he heard her slow footsteps and ran to her, enclosing her in his arms, spinning her around, and whispering fervently in Spanish. She was too weak to do much more than wrap her arms around his neck and bury her face in the perfect spot where his neck met his shoulder, where he smelled most purely of _Reyes_ , smearing the skin and shirt under his lightly armored jacket with the blood and tears she still hadn’t bothered to wipe off her face. 

__He rained kisses on her, staggering back a step as she slumped and the full, armored weight of her fell on him. Straining slightly, he grunted as he scooped her knees up for the step up into the shuttle, letting her legs back down when they were inside and collapsing onto the rear bench with her in his lap._ _

The pain was rising, a thousand times worse than before, and Ryder started shaking uncontrollably. “Shh sh sh, what do you need, _amor_?” he asked, tilting her head up with a hand under her chin. He was still Reyes, for now, and she was grateful. 

__“Arm-m-mor. Off-f,” she stuttered, teeth clattering together as the shaking got worse. She couldn't release her arms from around his neck so he gently pried her away, settling her on the floor and flicking all the catches open with expert fingers. As each piece came off she felt lighter, almost enough to blow away with the force of her own trembling._ _

Pain flashed through her and she writhed on the deck of the shuttle, sobbing. It hurt _so much_. 

__“Stay with me, Ryder, you're okay,” he said, voice flattening as he edged toward the Charlatan. His next words weren't directed at her._ _

“Vetra,” he barked. “I'm sending a navpoint. Get here with a doctor _now_. The Pathfinder is down, and it's bad.” Vetra buzzed a reply that Ryder couldn't hear over the clatter of her teeth trying to shiver their way out of her jaw. She cried out as another lash of pain raced from the crown of her head down her spine, jerked as the fire of the sun crawled over her skin, every nerve ending burning. There was no room for thought, only pain. 

__Sweat poured from her. Her heart raced as if it would never stop, and she was so, so terribly thirsty. A hand slipped into hers and she squeezed it, forcing her eyes open for the two seconds it took her to recognize Reyes through agonized tears. His face was a hard mask, but she saw the fear deep in his gaze. He turned her on her side, stroked her hair, massaged her head around the SAM implant. It helped, a little. He was muttering to himself in Spanish, the words alternating between the cadence of a command and a plea, and she latched onto them, using them as the thread binding her to consciousness._ _

__Running footsteps approached, the sound distantly muted. The hand on her head disappeared, and her whimpers turned to sobs in its absence. A second later a gun dropped to the deck, the sound reverberating and stabbing through her skull, and the hand came back, tilting her head as cool blue fingers thumbed her eyes open. Ryder flinched at the light that shone into them._ _

__“Get us to the Hyperion,” Lexi’s voice said from far away. “She's going into shock and I don't dare move her while she’s convulsing like this.”_ _

__A rumble as the door slid shut. The roar of the engine against her ear was too much. She passed out, unable to fight the agony any longer._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Okay, that ends all of the in-game/footage-based stuff. In the game's epilogue Ryder mentions being out for weeks, so what follows is her recovery and some of what comes after. Will they get that home they're dreaming of?


	19. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes gets Ryder back to the Hyperion for treatment and deals with a threat while she's unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst and a little fluff?

The Charlatan flinched as the Pathfinder’s sobs and whimpers cut off with a strangled sigh in the back. His fingers flew over the controls and he got the shuttle into the air faster than he ever had. Only when they were on course for the short hop to the Hyperion did he look back. “Is she…” He couldn’t finish it.

“She’s unconscious, which will make it safer to move her. I told her the comedown would hurt worse than anything as it was, and she still pushed it, still…” Lexi broke off, looking up at him with sharp grey eyes. “How are you so calm?”

He looked at the Pathfinder, watched fast, shallow breaths ripple over her and the involuntary twitches of her limbs. Shoved his fear for her away and reached overhead to touch the callsign he’d etched into the wall for luck. “I can’t afford to feel right now. So I don’t,” he said flatly, turning back to the controls as they beeped a warning. The crashed Hyperion rose in front of them, and he angled for a shuttle dock that would be oriented the right way in case the ark’s artificial gravity was out, praying that the medbay wasn’t on fire. “Nexus control, this is shuttle N-503 Anubis. Docking with an urgent medical need,” he said, keeping to formalities in the hopes that anyone in the bay wouldn’t shoot them. It would be the height of irony if they’d survived the Archon, only to be shot down by the Hyperion.

There was no reply. The Charlatan assumed they had bigger worries and docked, leaping out of the pilot’s chair as soon as the shuttle was powered off and the hatch opened to gently gather the Pathfinder’s twitching body in his arms. Lexi stepped back and allowed it, watching with a critical gaze as he carefully arranged her and supported her head when he lifted her. “Just because I won’t allow myself to feel right now doesn’t mean I don’t care,” he growled, not bothered about making sense but annoyed at the way she looked at him. Why did everyone think he didn’t care about her? “Let’s go. Lead the way.” 

Lexi stepped off the shuttle, looking around quickly to get her bearings before setting off. The bay was empty, for which the Charlatan was grateful. He was still banned from the Nexus and that presumably extended to the arks. In his current mindset, he was prepared to kill anyone who delayed them from getting where they were going to remind him of it, and Ryder probably wouldn’t be happy about that when she woke up.

The corridors were empty as well, bullet holes, fires, and improvised barricades telling the story of the battle for the Hyperion. The doctor led them to a door set in an alcove. It was locked. She swore, a particularly vulgar asari word that the Charlatan wouldn’t have expected from her. “SAM!” she shouted, banging a fist on the door. “It’s Lexi. Open up! We have Ryder!”

It worked. The lock flashed green and the doors slid open, admitting them to a dark, quiet room, lit only by a dazzling sphere of blue and orange. Was that SAM? 

Lexi darted to the console in the middle of the room and pressed a series of buttons, bringing it to life. A long panel rose from the floor in front of the console as Lexi reached behind it for a thick cable with a tapering input. “Put her there, on her side,” she directed. The Charlatan obeyed, wondering what the hell was going on. “Good. Now hold her.” He did so, grasping the Pathfinder at shoulder and hip to still her. Lexi turned Ryder’s head enough to see the SAM implant and slowly inserted the tip of input on the end of the cable. The Pathfinder twitched. “Hold her!” Lexi snapped, continuing to feed the input in with incredible slowness. The Charlatan pressed down harder. There was a small click, and Ryder jerked again under his hands. 

“Manual reset commencing, Dr T’Perro,” SAM’s voice said from all around them. “Re-establishing full connection to the Pathfinder.” Seconds passed, and Ryder’s twitching slowed, stopped. “Complete. You may disconnect the input.” Lexi sighed in relief. “Status?” she asked as she carefully removed the cable. The Charlatan released her and stepped back, giving Lexi room to do whatever it was she was going to do next.

“The Pathfinder is suffering from multiple mini-strokes and brain hemorrhaging. I will need to put her in a coma to stabilize her before any exploratory or corrective action can be taken.”

“How long?” the Charlatan grated out.

“Hello, Mr Vidal. I am afraid it may be a number of weeks before she is fully recovered.” The Charlatan rubbed his hands over his face. “But she’ll live? She will recover?” he asked, equally hopeful and afraid.

“With proper attention and care, and barring any unforeseen complications, her prognosis is good, although she should never again attempt unassisted manipulation of Remnant technology. I will bring her out of the coma for a first evaluation after a week.”

The Charlatan felt the stranglehold on his heart ease. She would be okay. He would stay on the Hyperion and make sure of it. Gently, he stepped close again and shifted her to lay on her back. Her breathing had evened out and her color was better. He allowed himself to collapse to the floor, leaning against the platform and taking a long, shuddering breath as the stress of the last few hours crashed home. None of it mattered. She would be okay.

“Let’s go, Mr Vidal,” Lexi prompted. “She needs rest and you can’t be here.”

His head came up and he fixed her with a glare. “She _is_ resting, and I will be wherever she is.” 

“Don’t make me call security, please,” she pleaded. “I appreciate your help in getting her here, but you aren’t authorized to be in this room.”

SAM broke in. “Dr T’Perro, I would prefer if Mr Vidal was permitted to stay. He has a unique connection to the Pathfinder that I would like to observe further. Although she is unconscious, part of her appears to recognize when he is present and responds positively in a way I am able to measure physically.”

The last of the Charlatan left him, chased out by a flood of warmth. She knew he was here, and felt better? Deeply touched and fighting back tears, he levered himself up, bent over her, and kissed her gently.

Lexi made a frustrated noise. “How about a compromise? Move her to the Pathfinder’s quarters next door. She’ll be close to SAM in case anything happens, and I don’t have to worry about what happens if someone finds out I let an exile into SAM node.”

“Deal,” Reyes said. “SAM?”

“I am in agreement,” the AI confirmed.

Reyes carefully gathered Ryder into his arms for the second time that day, looking down at her lovingly. She’d risked it all, and won. He’d never met anyone like her, and he remembered when he’d told her that in his shuttle after defeating Sloane. The words she’d thrown back at him with a saucy toss of her head echoed in his mind: _And you never will again_. She’d been right. His woman truly was one of a kind.

“You really do love her, don’t you?” Lexi asked as they entered the Pathfinder’s quarters. 

“Yes,” he replied, carrying the unconscious Pathfinder to the large, comfortable-looking bed and setting her on it carefully. She didn't ask any further questions and he didn't elaborate as he looked around, spotting what looked like a bathroom tucked away around a corner. Stepping into it, he shed his jacket and shirt to wipe her blood from his neck with a damp towel. The water ran pink as he wrung it out and re-wet it, going back to Ryder and tenderly wiping the dried, crusted blood and tear tracks from her neck, chin, and cheeks. 

The doctor was looking at him strangely. “You’re a complicated man, Mr Vidal. First a gambler, then a torturer, now a nurse," she said, listing the series of occasions during which she'd met him. "Don’t make me regret this.” 

He didn’t answer as he returned to the bathroom to rinse the towel out and lay it neatly along the edge of the sink to dry. So much was out of his control right now, but tidiness and cleanliness were both within his power. He returned to the bed, sat down on the edge, and pulled his boots off, setting them neatly one alongside the other along the side before stretching out next to Ryder. After all that had happened he needed a nap, and for once he didn’t particularly care who caught him taking one next to the Pathfinder. They’d earned some peace and quiet together. He settled on his side where he could see her without disturbing her when he woke up, closed his eyes, and lost himself in much-needed sleep, secure in the knowledge that his love would be alright eventually. The last thing he remembered was the doctor’s footsteps leaving and the click of the lock engaging behind her.

***

The doctors and his own restless nature wouldn’t let him stay in her quarters endlessly, so he took to popping out during the night cycle or whenever someone other than Lexi or the Tempest crew came to check on her. The first time the other doctors had tried throwing him out, Peebee had been there playing cards with him, Drack, and Vetra. Peebee had concocted the lie that Reyes was the Pathfinder’s bodyguard when they visited Kadara Port, assigned by the powerful Keema Dorghun - who would be a terrible person to offend - and so dedicated that he’d stayed here by her side rather than returning to Kadara when he’d discovered her injured on the hillside after defeating the Archon. Drack had quickly backed it up with a low confirmation and cracking knuckles that nobody had wanted to challenge, and Vetra had nodded silently, not wanting to speak for fear of her subvocals giving her away. Even SAM chimed in, stating that he believed Reyes’ presence was beneficial, though not elaborating on how. 

Nobody was in a position to call the Tempest crew liars - especially with the old man hulking behind Peebee and Vetra - so he was officially given clearance to stay when his record showed no evidence of crimes committed on the Nexus and a review of the Pathfinder budget recorded several payments from Ryder to himself. 

He was grateful to her team; he didn’t want to put Ryder at risk by letting the full extent of their relationship out just yet, but he needed a reason for why he was always alone with her in the Pathfinder’s quarters. Despite her earlier skepticism toward him, Lexi said nothing to her medical colleagues. “Doctor-patient confidentiality,” she explained when Reyes asked her about it. She was the consummate professional, so Reyes accepted it and relaxed a bit more.

All in all, it was the perfect setup. SAM, wanting to keep him close for reasons of its own, overrode the access on the room’s terminal and provided an encrypted channel for when he was needed on vidcon, allowing him to continue managing the Collective from a distance. It was difficult to get used to for the first few days, but Keema and his lieutenants had everything well in hand. The angara had choked on her cigar smoke and laughed herself silly at the idea that she'd assigned him to Ryder as a bodyguard, but agreed to go along with it if anyone asked. The mood in port was generally celebratory after he shared the details of what had happened at Meridian, so people were too busy drinking and partying to scheme. He had the Collective keep up with patrols anyway, just in case. His smuggling business would suffer long-term, but he was able to meet people in dark corners on the Hyperion or out in the shanty camps that had popped up outside to continue drawing income from information brokering. 

When he wasn’t working he sat with Ryder, telling her about the life he wanted for them or chatting life philosophies with SAM. The AI also had him engage in small tests with her, trying to measure her subconscious response to his being near or far, speaking or silent or singing, laying still beside her or touching her. Harmless, though apparently fascinating for SAM. He supposed even a machine needed a hobby if its symbiotic counterpart was in a coma.

As the end of the first week neared, he stepped out and changed off with Drack coming in to play bodyguard for a while. Hands in his pockets and assuming an air of nonchalance, he strolled around the corner and headed out to meet a contact near the monolith. He walked rather than taking his shuttle, wanting to stay literally under the radar. He also needed the exercise; sitting long hours at Ryder’s bedside was not conducive to keeping up his form, even with the calisthenics he made sure to do every morning before napping beside her.

Reyes reached the navpoint a little early and scoped the area out, ensuring that he was out of line with anywhere a sniper could nest. Sloane’s error would not be his. He’d been waiting just long enough past the appointed time to start becoming annoyed with the contact’s unprofessionalism when a rustling in the nearby undergrowth resolved itself into a rundown-looking woman in dirty clothes. She was carrying a small satchel and had a knife belted at her hip, but was otherwise unremarkable until he took a closer look and noticed her pupils, blown even in the bright Meridian sunlight, and the way her head kept drooping and snapping back up. Scratching at her arm confirmed it.

 _Great_ , Reyes thought. _An Oblivion user. How many times do I have to tell these fuckers that I don't move the stuff?_ A further thought occurred to him. How had she even gotten to Meridian? Oblivion was a drug used almost exclusively on Kadara and Elaaden. 

“Vidal?” the woman asked nervously. “I have a deal for you.”

“And what's that?” he asked flatly, eyes scanning the perimeter. A bush rustled. She hadn't come alone because he was nearly certain he hadn't been followed. 

“You move Oblivion on Meridian.” 

“Doesn't sound like much of a deal,” he growled. “And I don't move Oblivion.”

“You move it, or I make _this_ public,” she snapped, nearly getting herself shot as she reached into her satchel and jerked a datapad out, thrusting it at him. Holstering his pistol with a glare, he took it and switched it on.

It was full of photos of him and Ryder. On the rooftop after Sloane’s party, her smiling at him in the market, sitting too close together for professionalism in Kralla’s, exiting his shuttle at the docks, a dozen little moments caught with a low-quality camera at bad angles. Rage and dread coiled coldly in his stomach. _Blackmail_? Someone was trying to _blackmail_ the Charlatan?

Keeping his face neutral, he handed it back. “What's this?” he asked, pitching his voice for boredom. _I'll cut your throat before I let you get away with this_.

“Don't play stupid,” the woman snapped. “Everyone's saying you're fucking the Pathfinder, but I got _proof_. Me and-” she stopped, glancing toward the bush he'd noticed earlier. He pretended not to see, looking skyward. _Attempted blackmail by lucky, drug-addled amateurs_. He thanked the stars for Peebee’s lie; both he and Ryder had been over-thinking their secret and she'd provided a simple, believable explanation that worked for both Kadara and the Hyperion.

“What you got is a lot of blurry pictures of me doing bodyguard duty,” he said, still filtering his rage. He had to see if there were others before he killed these fools. “Let's say I agree to your terms,” he said casually. “Who am I dealing with?” 

Her grin was pure avarice. “Me and my partner. We wanna be your exclusive dealers. Corner the market before everyone settles here.”

Barely a week and the scavengers were coming out to try and carve off a piece of Meridian for themselves. It wasn't that the Collective didn't deal in Oblivion. Someone had to, and he ensured it was well-managed and as pure as possible. But he refused to run it himself and barred it from being sold in Initiative outposts because Ryder would flay him alive and dance in his skin if he did; the woman had an absolute opposition to drugs. He started walking back toward the Hyperion, gathering her in and turning on the charm. “I'm not saying you're right, of course. But the Pathfinder would be scandalized and being her bodyguard is easy work. I don't want to lose my position.”

“I knew you'd see it our way,” she hissed gleefully. 

Partially hidden from the offending bush by her body, he drew the knife he’d taken to wearing at the small of his back with his off hand and stabbed her twice, once in each kidney. She'd die, but not before he had time to make sure this was the end of the threat. In another smooth motion, he drew his pistol and shot the man rising from the bush in the stomach. Two idiots to question now. Perfect.

He confiscated their omnitools first, then spent a good half hour working them over. They broke quickly, pain thresholds lowered by too much Oblivion use and unable to stomach the torture of the other. As it turned out, they really were just lucky - or now, _unlucky_ \- assholes who were too greedy to mind their own business. There was a third partner to take care of on Elaaden, but their greed had kept the plot small. The krogan they'd hitched a ride to Meridian with had been told they were only looking for a one-way trip, so nobody here would be looking for them. 

_We got lucky this time_ , Reyes thought as he dragged their dead bodies to a nearby pile of rotting kett and tugged a few over them. They'd be gone when the next incineration team came through. The shuttles fired flamethrowers from overhead, and nobody was going to be inclined to dig through ripe kett anyway. _Don't be mad at me for this, Ryder. I'm just trying to protect our secrets_. The truth would get out eventually, but _nobody_ got away with trying to blackmail the Charlatan.

He'd moved his shuttle off the Hyperion and to a hidden canyon nearby the day before, just in case he overstayed his welcome and had to get away in a hurry. It turned out to have been a good plan, giving him somewhere to change, wash the blood out of his clothes, and scrub his face and hands before returning to the ark. The omnitools he tucked into a lead-lined box to block any signals that could be used to trace them and handed it off to one of his angaran agents for delivery to the cell on Elaaden to deal with.

Drack looked up and sniffed when he wandered back into the Pathfinder's quarters, hands in his pockets once again in an effort to look both harmless and aimless. “Trouble, kid?” Shit. He’d known krogan had a good sense of smell, but not that it was that good.

“Not anymore,” he admitted. The old man had helped him torture the person who had stabbed Ryder and would appreciate both his honesty and the necessities of his situation.

“Heh heh heh. Good man.” Drack tapped his right nostril. “Mix one part alcohol to two parts water next time. Helps kill the smell of blood and rot. Better to say you spilled your drink than have Kesh wondering who you killed and hid in a heap of dead kett.”

The Charlatan froze and Drack roared with laughter. “Don't worry. Our senses get better with age. Best she'd be able to smell is human blood, but you’re a bodyguard so…” he shrugged, and the Charlatan relaxed. 

“Bastard old man,” he muttered gratefully, snagging the bottle of whiskey from the table as he went into the bathroom to erase any lingering stench.


	20. Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder is awakened for tests. A solution presents itself for one of Reyes' concerns.

Late in the night cycle, in that strange hour when it was so late it was morning, was usually the safest time for Reyes to be in bed with Ryder. He was ending his day, most of the Hyperion wasn't awake yet, and the chances of anyone bothering them were low.

Ryder had been awakened late in the morning the day before for evaluation. Reyes had sat unobtrusively in the corner, so quiet that he thought the doctors had forgotten he was there as they monitored her vitals while SAM slowly released her from the coma. It was a skill that came in handy both in smuggling and information gathering, and one he was well-practiced in.

It had turned out to be useful here, as well. Ryder had panicked when she woke up in a room she apparently didn’t sleep in often if ever, surrounded by beeping equipment and faces she didn’t recognize. Her vitals had skyrocketed to dangerous levels and her biotics had flared, her panic such that SAM had had difficulty overriding her sympathetic nervous system. When Reyes realized that she would probably hurt herself or destroy the room with an unfocused biotic burst if she wasn’t calmed quickly, he’d pushed between two doctors, sat on the bed, and gripped her hand. 

“Pathfinder,” he said firmly, conscious of everyone in the room watching them. This was risky for more reasons than one, but she needed him. Her eyes had snapped to his, their gazes locking for what seemed like forever as she panted. The biotic glow slowly faded. Finally, she’d closed her eyes and shuddered, squeezing his hand before wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her head on them. 

He’d desperately wanted to comfort her but he was just the bodyguard. Getting up and leaving her had pained him, even if it was just to go to the other side of the room, but their secret wasn’t out yet. 

“Have you seen her do this before?” one of the doctors had asked. Reyes had shrugged. “I managed to surprise her once on Kadara, and she made a joke that I was lucky I hadn’t woken her up.” A lie, and a weak one at that, but he couldn’t tell them that the first time he’d slept with her she’d done the same thing on awakening in an unfamiliar room. 

Ryder had saved him from having to explain further. “I’m sitting right here,” she croaked, sounding irritable. “You try dying three times in hostile territory and see how you feel waking up somewhere unexpected.”

The doctors had shuffled their feet, looking uncomfortable, and Ryder had thrown herself back on the bed. “Can I get some water or something?” That had kicked off a flurry of activity as someone fetched her some ice chips and various medical professionals started running tests. In the end, the dark spots were still showing on her brain and SAM advised that he could work faster to heal her if she was comatose.

The AI wanted to allow her 24 hours before inducing the coma again, so she was currently snuggled up against him. On top of him, really, her head resting on his shoulder, arm thrown over his waist, one long leg over both of his. She'd been too weak and tired after the tests to do more than take a shower, change into some pajamas, scold the doctors out of the room, demand he get in bed, and collapse on top of him. He'd have pushed her off, concerned about someone walking in on them, if he hadn't missed the feel of her body against his so much. As it was he was going to be hard-pressed to explain this particular aspect of his bodyguard duties, especially after stepping in to calm her earlier.

He was dozing, more asleep than awake and half dreaming of fucking her when he heard footsteps approaching. _Shit, at this hour? Who's awake?_ The lock chimed a welcome and the door opened as he slid into a seated position. Unwilling to awaken Ryder by getting up, he leveled the pistol he'd taken to keeping on the bedside table at the unwelcome visitor who seemed to have the door codes. Nobody with the codes came at this time of night, and her vitals were steady, so whoever it was probably wasn’t supposed to be here. Ryder mumbled a protest but didn't wake up, only wiggling to fit against him again.

A man who looked startlingly like the woman sprawled over him froze when the open door revealed his welcome. Scott, it had to be. He was much bigger than Laz, possibly even bigger than Reyes himself, with cat-green eyes and curly hair in short twists. “Get in or get out, but shut the fucking door,” Reyes snapped as he lowered his weapon, annoyed when Laz’ twin chose in and locked the door again behind him.

They looked at each other for long moments. Scott shifted awkwardly, his discomfort clear. “You must be Vidal,” he said finally. Reyes set the gun down and stroked Laz’ hair, testing the man. Sure enough, he bristled, brows lowering and eyes narrowing in an expression eerily like the one Laz made when something didn't sit well with her. The Ryder twins didn't _like_ each other from what he'd observed, but it seemed they would both fight for the other. He'd have to tread carefully.

“And you must be Scott,” he said softly. The other Ryder looked terrible, certainly not like someone who should be awake, let alone out of bed. He was leaning on a crutch, wavering slightly with fatigue. It appeared stubbornness was a Ryder family trait. Laz chose that moment to snuggle closer with a contented sigh, and Reyes unconsciously shifted to wrap an arm around her protectively. Scott’s eyes widened. “I've never seen her like this,” he muttered grudgingly. 

Reyes couldn't help himself. “You make a habit of walking in on your sister?” 

Scott glared. “ _No_. But I know her well enough to know she never lets people close like that.” He looked at Reyes, an evaluation. “Can we talk?”

“We are talking.” Something about Laz’ twin, his attitude or bearing, maybe, brought out the asshole in him. He could already see where their personalities were completely different and while physically he found them both attractive, Laz was temperamentally better suited to him. Reyes bit his tongue before he could do more damage with sharp comments. _Future brother-in-law_ , he reminded himself.

“Can we talk somewhere I can sit down and that _doesn't_ involve you in bed with my sister?”

Reyes supposed that was fair. “SAM, can you keep her under for a bit? I need to talk to Scott but don't want to disturb her.” Carefully, he shifted out from under Laz, gently easing a pillow into his place and making sure she was comfortable. She stirred, frowning in her sleep, but didn't awaken.

“Yes, Mr Vidal, but not for longer than ten minutes or it will disrupt her sleep cycle.” 

“Thanks, SAM.” Turning, he gestured toward the table next to the workstation. Scott, confusion plain on his face, limped over and took a seat. “SAM listens to you?” he asked. Reyes shrugged. “We've gotten acquainted.” It wasn't an answer, and Scott’s eyes narrowed. Reyes pushed on, deflecting with a question of his own. “I thought you were in recovery as well?”

It was Scott’s turn to shrug. “They woke me up for tests. I snuck out because nobody would tell me what's happening with Lazuli and I heard she collapsed after leaving Meridian control.” His look became sharp. “I didn't realize she had her own personal nurse,” he sneered. 

Reyes didn't react. He felt no shame in being his love's caretaker, even if he had to do it secretly. It was his job as her partner and he took her well-being seriously. He did find it hypocritical that Scott would accuse him of not caring in their last conversation, and then throw it in his face now, but worrying about it was beneath him. The man had been through a lot and was clearly put off balance by the presence of his sister’s lover. Reyes decided to throw him a bone. “She was awakened for tests today as well. Wasn't able to get up for long. Nobody would tell her how you were when she asked, either, although that’s probably because they were scared of her. She...woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Scott looked reluctantly grateful for the information, his eyebrows shifting up and his mouth tightening into the slightest semblance of a smile, and nodded. “ _That_ definitely sounds like her. She’s never woken up easily, especially once her biotics manifested.” _Except with me_ , Reyes thought with a tight smile. The two men sat without speaking for a minute, weighing each other, waiting to see who would break the silence first. Reyes, used to these games, allowed his gaze to drift to Laz. She was still sleeping peacefully.

“So what did you do to get exiled?” Scott asked abruptly. “Be honest with me, man. My sister says nothing, but she seems dead set against Tann for some reason and is inclined to think the best of anyone not him.”

Reyes glanced at Scott, keeping his face blank despite his irritation with the demand. The younger man’s light green eyes lacked the odd quirk that made Laz’ such a brilliant shade of turquoise, but not the intensity. Apparently, that was a Ryder thing. 

Tell the truth, and risk betrayal? Or tell a believable lie and make trouble down the line? The truth always came out; it was a matter of controlling or killing any threatening parties when it did. He couldn't kill his lover’s twin brother - not unless she wanted him to, anyway. And if Scott was anything like his sister, controlling him would take more effort than it was worth and would probably end in disaster anyway. He sighed. Truth it was...but not all at once.

“I didn't take part in the uprising. It's what I did after I left that prevented my coming back until now.”

Scott pounced. “And that is…?”

Reyes let the Charlatan slide to the fore, enjoying the other man's shiver. “Whatever I needed to do to survive a barely livable planet, surrounded by murderers and hostile aliens, and cut off from everything I ever knew or recognized as safety.” When the other man swallowed, eyes wide, Reyes reached across the table and clapped him on the shoulder. “Relax. I'm an information broker. Sometimes I work for the Resistance or move merchandise in my shuttle. When your sister is in port I'm her bodyguard.” It was close enough to the truth, anyway. Laz knew who he was and what he did, and that's all that mattered.

“That's a pretty varied skill set,” Scott said slowly, clearly doubting him.

“I'm a pretty useful guy to have around,” Reyes said casually, not breaking eye contact. Scott looked away first.

“Do you love her?”

Reyes couldn't stop his frown. Honesty here as well. “Yes, not that it's your business.”

Scott snorted. “That's almost exactly what she said when I asked her the same question about you,” he said wryly. “You two are perfect for each other.”

“More than you know,” Reyes said, allowing a hint of threat into his voice. If Laz’ brother thought he could interfere, Reyes was not above setting him straight. Scott shivered again, then asked, “How did you end up together, anyway?” _Nosy little shit_ , Reyes thought.

Aloud, he replied, “She discovered something I was trying to hide.” Looking at her, remembering how close he'd come to losing everything that day, he felt one side of his mouth curl up in a smile. “She nearly killed me over it. I...managed to convince her otherwise, and she forgave me.”

It was another partial answer, but it was more than he'd have given anyone else.

Scott shook his head, rolling his eyes. “You are both crazy and probably deserve each other. Just don't break her heart, okay?” 

Reyes laughed. “It's the most precious thing I've ever stolen. Why the hell would I break it?”

“Oh, for fuck's sake. You really are a piece of work, Vidal.”

When Reyes made no reply but a toothy grin, Scott excused himself and headed back to his bed.

As he slid back in behind Ryder for what little time was left of the morning, he was surprised when she snuggled back against him and reached back to pull his arm over her. “...SAM?”

“Your conversation with Scott took 12.36 minutes,” SAM pointed out.

“I don't know what SAM has to do with it, but I heard the end of that discussion,” she murmured sleepily.

“Oh?” he dodged, squeezing the arm over her to press her closer for a moment. He needed to tell her about the attempted blackmail, more because it would matter to her as _big stuff_ than anything else, but it could wait. She wasn't in a position to do anything about it now and he wanted to simply enjoy being close to her.

“You can be very corny sometimes,” she said teasingly. “But you did steal my heart, because I didn't want to give it to you, so I guess I should just be glad that you told my brother the truth.”

Reyes hugged her closer and buried his face in her hair. She'd used whatever it was that made her smell like amber and orange flower when she'd showered earlier, and the smell reminded him of the first time they'd slept together, after Sloane's party. They were still as crazy for each other now as they had been then and he’d simply come to accept the backflips his stomach did when he saw her. Contrary to what he’d told Scott, however, he was secretly afraid he _would_ break her heart. He was trying to be a better man, but some of his bad habits - lying, theft, and murder among them - had been years in the building. They weren’t going to disappear overnight, especially while he had to be the Charlatan. He could only hope she would stay with him until he could rule Kadara more honestly. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Ryder murmured suddenly. Reyes froze, panicked. Had she read his mind? “Keeping us a secret, I mean,” she continued, and his breath whooshed out of him in a relieved sigh. 

“You scared me, woman,” he growled, nipping the back of her neck. A machine beeped a warning as her heart rate spiked.

She grinned, enjoying any opportunity to poke at him. “Sorry. But really, Reyes, we need to figure out how to make this...okay. We’re going to get caught, and there’s going to be hell to pay as it is. ‘The Pathfinder and the Exile’ is not a romance story that will go over well. It will be even worse if anyone finds out about...the other part.” _The Charlatan_ , Reyes mentally filled in.

“I could just steal you away,” he joked. “Kidnap you, keep you on Kadara as my queen.” She giggled, then sobered. 

“I could resign,” she said quietly. “Scott would make a better Pathfinder, and then you wouldn’t have to kidnap me.”

He mulled that over, sensing that she was at least a little serious. “If you resign, I don’t want it to be for me. And there’s the matter of SAM being necessary to keeping you alive as well.”

“Plus I’d just miss him if he was gone,” Ryder sighed. “He’s part of me, like...like my arm or something.”

“Thank you, Pathfinder,” SAM interjected. “I consider you an integral part of me, too.”

Reyes and Ryder both smiled. “We’ll take you with us, SAM. Don’t worry,” Reyes said. A thought occurred to them. What did the AI want? What would it do if Ryder took an action that meant she was no longer Pathfinder? The risk for betrayal was huge. “SAM…” 

“Yes, Mr Vidal?”

“What do you want?”

The AI was silent for all of three seconds, a noticeably long span of time for it. “I do not understand the question.”

Ryder squeezed his hand, nodding thoughtfully, so he rephrased it. “You’re tied to Ryder. But you’re also your own being. What would make you happy? Or fulfill an objective, or, I don’t know, help you?”

Again SAM was silent for several seconds. “Learning about the organic, and specifically human, experience is my primary objective. It enables me to grow. Observing the relationship between yourself and the Pathfinder has been a continual source of new information. I would like to continue doing so, Mr Vidal.”

That was a little creepy, but Reyes would benefit from having the AI on their side and had never minded an audience to his sexual activities. In any case, SAM already knew more about the Collective and the Charlatan than anyone other than Ryder and Keema. It could have fucked him over at any time but appeared unmotivated to do so. Perhaps it even liked him? It had suggested as much before when it told him he relaxed Ryder and made it easier to execute healing routines. Maybe that meant they should be friends. “You can call me Reyes, SAM. I think we’re familiar enough now,” he quipped. 

“Very well, Reyes.”

“What about the Initiative?” Ryder asked. Reyes’ attention sharpened. A very good question. 

“A means to an end. Your father joined the Initiative to preserve Ellen Ryder’s life. I would like to continue that objective as well, but the only role the Initiative plays in it is keeping her alive in cryostasis.”

Bingo. Reyes had had a chance to observe the other Pathfinders in the Battle of Meridian and suspected Ryder’s SAM was more advanced than the others. If the AI sided with them for its own reasons, they wouldn’t have to steal it. They would simply have to treat it as an equal partner and find a way to take it with them - and then they would have an unparalleled edge. 

“SAM?” Ryder asked. “In Alec’s memories, it looked like he...built you...in a workshop. Where did you live before the Hyperion?”

“Your father called it the ‘black box’,” SAM replied. 

“How big is this black box, SAM?” Reyes asked.

“Ten centimeters square.” 

The machine beeped another warning, scolding Ryder’s racing heart, and she took a deep breath. “Did my father bring it with him?”

“Yes. He wanted to have a backup plan in case the Benefactor betrayed the Initiative. In such an event, he planned to take me with him and continue seeking a cure for Ellen in Heleus independently.”

Reyes met Ryder’s eyes, his shock mirrored in hers as the machines blipped once more. Again they’d been overthinking things, assuming that repurposing Knight’s virus and setting up a computer lab somewhere was the only way to steal SAM away from the Initiative. All this time, they’d only needed to ask the AI itself rather than putting it in privacy mode every time they discussed this. 

“Thank you, SAM,” Reyes said, not bothering to hide his excitement. SAM could probably read it, anyway, and if they were going to be full partners it would be a bad start to look dishonest. “For my part, I’m happy for you to continue observing us.”

“Me too, SAM. I won’t put you in privacy mode anymore, okay? And of course, I want to save my mom. Just please...encrypt the last hour, and any time we discuss this in future. Not everyone will see things like we do.”

“Very well, Pathfinder.”

“Thanks, SAM,” they said in unison. It broke the tautness of the last few minutes and they laughed, Reyes pulling Ryder to him for a kiss. She turned in his arms, half-tangled in the IV tube and pulse monitor, and held his face as she deepened it. 

A weight was lifted from Reyes’ shoulders. Every time they tried to make a backup plan for Ryder leaving the Initiative, they’d been caught up by the question of SAM. Now they had a solution, and Ryder would have more freedom to resist Tann or take on her own missions. 

The sound of feet in the corridor sent Reyes dashing back to the sofa where he usually slept. It was more comfortable than the one in Tartarus so aside from the fact that Ryder was across the room, he didn’t mind. A doctor entered the room, chattering about spikes in Ryder’s readings and generally asking the room what had happened. “Nightmare,” Ryder muttered, turning onto her side so that she could see him as the doctor fussed. Behind the asari's back, Reyes winked and laid down to sleep. 

Was he still a thief if his prizes _wanted_ to be stolen?


	21. United

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder decides to take matters with Reyes and the Collective into her own hands. The Nexus is going to play by _her_ rules.

Ryder _hated_ being bedridden. 

Physically, she was feeling much better now that she’d had two weeks of comatose rest, and it was making her antsy. The dark spots in her brain were healing slowly, but not even SAM could say how long it would be until she was well enough to get back out into the field. If Reyes hadn’t been there the boredom would have driven her insane. As it was, he was driving her insane with being able to see him for the last three days she’d been awake, but unable to _fuck_ him.

At the moment, he was taking advantage of her wakeful spell to get some cuddling in. She was slowly realizing that it wasn’t just sex he needed to feel good, it was physical touch, which made her wonder how well he coped with her long absences while she was on Pathfinder missions. He never complained or made her feel guilty, but he seemed to relish every moment they spent touching each other. She was enjoying it now in particular, even if she wanted more, because of how much it frustrated him to be able to hold her but not _have_ her; at least she wasn’t alone in her frustration. She hoped it would inspire him to play roughly when she was back in action. All this gentle handling, though sweet, wasn't really her thing.

He started tracing patterns on her hip, fidgeting. Something was up. “What, Reyes?” she asked, rolling slightly to look into his face in time to see it go blank. His golden-hazel eyes narrowed. “Dangerous woman,” he muttered, cupping her face and kissing her. He fidgeted a few seconds longer, telling her an admission of _big stuff_ was on its way. “I had to kill someone while you were sleeping.”

“On the Hyperion? What happened?” He was so careful, especially given his tenuous position on the ark as her “bodyguard”, that there had to have been a good reason for it. 

Reyes sighed, sounding irritated. “We were seen on the shipping containers at Sloane’s party by some Outcasts. If it was just that I’d have laughed them off and kept an eye on the situation, but they saw us a few more times. They had pictures to prove it, and were going to try to blackmail me into moving Oblivion to Meridian.” His face hardened. “ _Nobody_ tries to blackmail me.”

It was just one more reason why they had to stop with the secrecy, despite the risks of coming out in the open. She snuggled closer to him, then scooted away as footsteps and voices filtered in from the audio feed she’d had SAM set up of the hallway to give them more warning after Scott’s medbay escape and late-night appearance. Reyes, quick as a cat, was off the bed and in a chair cleaning his nails with the knife from his boot when Lexi and Harry came in. 

“You think you’re so clever,” Ryder said, pretending to banter with him. 

“That _is_ why Evfra calls me Shena,” Reyes pouted, taking his cue to play along. “Did you think it was for another reason, Pathfinder?” He winked and Ryder flushed, knowing full well what the man would do with his mouth given twenty minutes of undisturbed privacy.

The doctors looked between Ryder and Reyes, and Ryder flushed deeper as Lexi’s eyes narrowed at the impression of a second, larger body on the bed sheets. “I hope we aren’t...interrupting?” 

“Of course not,” Ryder insisted, shifting slightly and tugging the sheets into a more random arrangement. “Vidal was just trying to show off.”

Lexi’s brow rose skeptically. “Oh?”

At a loss and hoping they would think she was addled by the meds they’d given her, Ryder reached for the hand-sized book sitting on the bedside table and held it into the air. Without missing a beat, Reyes’ hand whipped back and then forward. Ryder grunted as the knife he’d been fiddling with thudded into the center of it, the point going through to the other side. “I told you,” Reyes purred smugly.

Ryder covered her surprise by holding the book in front of her face to examine it. “It’s off-center. I should have Keema send me a new bodyguard. You’re getting sloppy.” 

“Your hand wavered. I should have these nice medical professionals extend your bed rest. You’re not well enough to hold up a book.” She glared at him, tossing the book to that side of the bed, and he smirked before blanking his expression and leaning over to retrieve his knife. He sheathed it back in his boot, stood, and stepped around the bed and the shocked doctors. “Excuse me. I’m going to see about some coffee. Or whiskey. Or both.”

No-one spoke as everyone in the room watched the smuggler saunter down the corridor. Ryder tried not to stare at the delicious way his ass looked; the extra swagger in his step when he was pleased was always a turn-on and she didn’t want to trip the heart rate monitors again. “Is he always like that?” Harry finally asked.

“Yes,” Lexi and Ryder answered together.

Harry’s eyebrows flashed up and down and he changed the subject, asking how she was feeling. “Better,” Ryder said. The doctors insisted on verifying it, running various tests, asking her to touch her nose and silly shit like that. “Can I get out of here for a bit?” she asked when they were done. Lexi and Harry exchanged glances. “Please?”

Lexi shrugged and Harry said, “Exercise would be good, and Nexus leadership has been asking for a call. If you don’t want to take it here, you could go to your ship. To the Tempest and back, no more. You may have gone into combat in worse shape, but you’re still not well enough to be discharged.”

“Someone needs to go with her, and we have more patients to see, Harry.”

A modest cough from the door brought everyone’s attention back to Reyes, standing in the entry with a steaming mug in one hand. “I think I can manage her for a little walk,” he offered. Ryder turned hopeful eyes to Lexi, who gritted her teeth but nodded and started disconnecting the IV and pulse monitor. She might not like Reyes being on the Tempest, but it was Ryder’s ship and Ryder’s say. Harry left, considering the matter settled, and Lexi whirled on Reyes as he approached the bed. 

“ _Behave_. No whiskey, and definitely no sex!” she hissed under her breath. Reyes and Ryder made identical looks of wide-eyed innocence, then Reyes smirked. “I’m good, doctor, but I haven’t literally blown her mind yet.” 

“I did that all on my own,” Ryder deadpanned. 

The two of them burst into evil snickers as asari threw up her hands and left. “Fine, but she’ll be in bed even longer!” she snapped on her way out. It was the first time Ryder had felt like laughing in...she couldn’t remember how long, and she couldn’t seem to stop, which unexpectedly set Reyes off. He set his coffee down before he could spill it and dropped onto the bed next to her, tears of mirth forming in his eyes. She’d never seen him like this. They’d shared laughs, but this felt like a glimpse of what they could have if they set aside their burdens, if she was no longer Pathfinder and he was no longer the Charlatan. Normalcy. 

Heedless of the still-open door, she threw an arm around his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. This was what she wanted more of, and she was going to fight for it. Today. A plan had formed in her mind over the last few days, and with SAM on their side, she was free to execute it. Yes, they could steal SAM...or she could keep that as a backup plan, and make everyone play by _her_ rules. Meridian was an opportunity, and she’d come to realize that she actually kind of liked being Pathfinder, or at least liked the perks that came with the job. If she left and joined the Collective, Reyes would always be first among equals despite his best intentions. 

Instinctively, she knew their relationship would take a hit as a result. She would never submit - outside one of their sex games, anyway - and he would always insist on having the last say in anything to do with the Collective. It was fair enough, given that he’d founded the group, but she wanted more than being his second-in-command. She wanted to be the boss, and she suspected he got off on dominating her in bed because of it. It would be less fun for both of them if she had to submit to him in all areas. No. She would try her solution before making any snap decisions about giving up her position as Pathfinder.

Reyes slowly got himself under control while she drafted a quick email to Tann, telling him she was temporarily up and available for a vidcon via the Tempest. Reyes bolted the coffee, wincing at the heat, then stood and offered her a hand out of bed. Even with his assistance, it was slow going. She’d been flat on her back for just over two weeks, and her muscles felt the lack of activity. 

She was leaning slightly on his arm by the time they made it to the Tempest, snarling in irritation. For someone so accustomed to physical activity, the limitations of injury were infuriating. Reyes wisely demonstrated his understanding that the best way to use his mouth just now was to keep it shut as he helped her through the ship and up the long ramp to the vidcon area. Ryder leaned on the table, steadying herself. “SAM, is anyone on the Tempest?” 

“Only yourself and Reyes, Pathfinder. And your pyjack.”

 _Perfect. Time to make a deal_. “How would you feel about the Collective having a more formal relationship with the Nexus?” she asked Reyes abruptly. His golden eyes sharpened, his face hardening as the Charlatan slid forward to do business. 

“It was one of the reasons I ordered us here,” he admitted slowly, his voice flat. “I would have come for you anyway, but we needed something in addition to eliminating Sloane to help show the Collective in a positive light. Meridian was perfect.”

Ryder nodded, neither surprised nor bothered that he’d used her call to arms for his own purposes. It fit quite well with what she’d planned for today. “And if I can get you a representative? Who would it be?”

Reyes didn’t hesitate. “Me. Not as the Charlatan, but as their trusted agent. Let the Initiative and everyone else continue to think Keema is the real power.”

“I want something in exchange,” she said, watching him closely. He nodded. Right now they were doing business as the Pathfinder and the Charlatan, and both sides made demands in business negotiations. “Name it,” he said.

“We’re together in the open. No more hiding. We both accept the consequences.”

His eyes narrowed as he regarded her, and she stared right back. She didn’t doubt his commitment to her, but he was just so used to keeping every part of himself in the shadows. “You would publicly tie yourself to criminals?” he asked warily.

“I would publicly tie myself to _you_. That means I’m trusting you to keep your people in line. You can keep up whatever...revenue streams...you currently have going, but keep them quiet and keep the port in good shape. If there’s even a hint of your people turning into Outcasts, I’ll hunt them down myself. In return, the Collective gets the explicit backing of the Pathfinder for as long as I have the position, and you can use it to negotiate with the council for access to the Nexus and the arks.”

Reyes’ eyes glittered at the possibilities, the only hint in his otherwise blank expression. “You’re playing a dangerous game, _mi reina_ ,” he purred darkly, taking a step forward into her space. Her heart started to race; he was frighteningly attractive when he was dangerous like this and she suspected he knew his effect on her...yet his pupils had dilated slightly and SAM warned that his heart rate was increasing over their private channel. Good. He was excited. He wanted this deal, and that gave her some power.

Ryder hardened her face and put an edge into the smile she flashed as she looked up at him. “I’m playing to _win_. If I’m going to be Pathfinder, this is the only way I’ll be able to do it and put up with Tann.” His smile mirrored hers as he snorted a laugh. Neither of them could stand the director. 

She continued, wanting to put all her cards on the table so he had no excuse if things fell apart later. “Criminality is unavoidable and I have bigger battles to fight. You will keep it civilized and allow me to focus on the outposts, my mother, and the kett - because they _will_ be back. And Reyes, if you agree and then fuck this up...don’t forget the promise I made you the night of the poker game. We could be Andromeda’s power couple, or you could play games with me and we can destroy each other. That’s my offer.”

He looked at her a minute longer, a look of hunger growing in his eyes. “You get the Collective a seat at the bargaining table and me in as a representative. I keep my various revenue streams and require basic standards of behavior from my people. Our previous agreements, including no Oblivion sold directly to outposts, stand. Publicly, the Pathfinder and the Charlatan are allies and Lazuli Ryder and Reyes Vidal are partners. That’s the deal?”

Ryder nodded slowly, trying to remember to breathe, to show no fear or hesitation. “That’s the deal.” Would he go for it? It was a gamble for both of them, but as cautious as he was he’d shown himself willing to take risks for the chance of a big payoff in the past.

Carefully, his eyes never leaving hers, he grasped her chin and leaned in for a kiss. She allowed it, used to the Charlatan’s power plays and refusing to be intimidated. They were equal partners here. Each kept their eyes open as their lips met, and he forced his tongue into her mouth to dance with hers. “I accept,” he growled when he pulled away. 

_One down, four to go_ , Ryder thought. The Charlatan was still in him and there was more work to do, so she steeled herself rather than letting her relief show. 

The console beeped, alerting her to an incoming request, and she waved him back to where he’d be out of sight of the camera before accepting it. He leaned fluidly against the wall, arms crossed, watching her from the shadows with golden jackal’s eyes. _No pressure…_

She accepted the call. Not only, Tann, but the entire council wavered into existence around the table. “Pathfinder,” Tann greeted her, “let me be the first to congratulate you on your success and extend my wishes for a speedy recovery.”

Addison was the next to jump aboard the flattery train. “Indeed, well done, Pathfinder. The loss of the Hyperion’s power has meant a small hit for the Nexus, but with three other arks and a perfect world in Meridian, I think we’ll be alright with the colonies.”

Ryder waited for Kandros and Kesh to add their congratulations, remembering the way none of them had backed her plan for Meridian. She still managed to put a pleasant face on, smiling as she said, “I couldn’t have done it without our many allies. Kandros, thank you for leading the militia. Kesh, the krogan can be proud of their contribution. Addison, I think Evfra and the Resistance will be more welcoming of our colonies now that they see they have solid allies in us. Sending their fighters to Meridian was a sign of deep trust and faith. And of course, we can’t forget about the Collective.”

Watching their nods and preening turn to frozen discomfort was hilarious, and she carefully avoided looking at Reyes. 

“Yes...the Collective,” Tann mused sourly. “I had heard that was the name of the group of exiles who participated.”

“They did more than participate,” Ryder said, strongly enough to catch their attention but not so forcefully that she’d put their backs up. “They took down a kett troop transport at a critical moment for me to slip the Nomad through unchallenged, and their people fought seamlessly with Kandros’ militia and Morda’s heavies to enable me to reach the control center.” 

She paused to let that sink in, remembering how Reyes used silence as a show of power. Tann shifted. “I think we can all agree they demonstrated skill.”

“They did,” Ryder agreed, “and much like the krogan, they didn’t have to demonstrate it on our behalf.” She paused again, giving them time to find their way to the point she was making.

Kandros snorted, catching it first. “The krogan were welcomed back, so now you want the exiles?”

“Not _all_ of the exiles, of course,” Ryder said carefully, trying to demonstrate that she could be reasonable. “Those who rioted with Sloane, or who committed violent crimes while they were part of the Initiative, would constitute a security threat. But there are those who left simply because they disagreed with your leadership. Isn’t this a democratic project? Shouldn’t people have the right to choose their leaders...especially with the unexpected events leading to Jien Garson's death?” _Reyes, you better not have been lying about not committing any crime on the Nexus…_

The council exchanged glances, their discomfort obvious, and she wondered how many of them suspected Garson’s death was more than an accident or were aware of the Benefactor. Or hell, if one of them actually _was_ the Benefactor. “And if they couldn’t choose their leaders,” Ryder continued idly, wanting to drive the point home, “surely they were within their rights to leave peacefully?”

“You’ve made your point, Pathfinder,” Addison snapped. “I know we haven’t always been popular, but the riot took things too far. With Sloane out there, who knows what trouble would come aboard the Nexus if we started welcoming them back? Besides, it would set a bad precedent.” Tann nodded in agreement. 

Ryder cocked her head, fixing Addison with a knowing stare. “Sloane was executed by the Collective. They didn’t approve of her methods and she was running the port into the ground. The new leader, Keema Dorghun, is angara. She's level-headed, and it would show good faith to support her people.”

Addison scowled, finding herself trapped by her previous concerns about improving relations with the angara as well as the lack of Sloane to use as a bogeyman. 

“You’re putting us in a difficult position, Ryder,” Tann complained. “We can’t simply welcome these exiles back with open arms.”

Kesh jumped in. “Do you realize how it will look if we turn away exiles who committed no crimes against us other than to leave, and then returned to fight for us anyway? Especially after we welcomed the krogan back simply for offering a colony? Even you can’t be that dense, Tann. The Kadarans both welcomed a colony and sent fighters with no gesture from us. We have to offer this Collective something, or we open ourselves to being painted as the dictators Sloane tried to make us out to be. And I for one won’t be called a hypocrite for getting my own people welcomed back but turning others away.”

“I didn’t say we wouldn’t do anything,” Tann snapped, trying to wrest back control of the conversation. “I simply said she was making it difficult.” He turned on Ryder. “Well, Pathfinder? What is your suggestion?”

 _Got ya, you piece of shit_ , Ryder crowed in her head. “Start small. Welcome a delegation from the Collective, including some of the fighters at Meridian. Sure, screen their list to make sure no-one who committed a crime on the Nexus is allowed aboard, but be open to meeting with them. Some of them died to make sure I could make it to Meridian control, and a gesture like this could demonstrate that you’re not tyrants who take personal offense with those who chose to leave while being happy to use their lives for your purpose.” It was harsh, but they needed a kick in the ass. She was always happy to deliver one.

There was more grumbling and debate, but they agreed in the end. Ryder was to send a request to Keema for a delegation of five members of the Collective plus seconds to meet at Meridian control in one month. The council would arrive with themselves plus a bodyguard each. She had insisted on the meeting taking place in person and on relatively neutral ground, unwilling to trust the Initiative’s leadership far enough to risk sending Reyes into a trap but wanting them to experience the new world for themselves, to ensure they understood the value of what they had gotten. The Collective would still need vetting, and what Reyes did during negotiations was his business, but she felt she’d fulfilled her end of the bargain. 

By the time the vidcon ended, two hours had passed and Ryder had long since grown stiff from locking her knees to stay upright. When SAM confirmed the transmission closed and all feeds ended, she let them buckle and fell to the deck, trembling. 

A hand fell on her shoulder and she jumped, having tried so hard not to look at the Charlatan that she’d forgotten he was there. “Acceptable?” she asked, wavering. He steadied her before scooping her up, and she rested her head on his chest, exhausted. “Yes,” he confirmed, the words rumbling pleasantly against her ear. “We come out after you’re vetted,” she said, and he agreed. 

Her work wasn’t finished. Hell, it was just beginning. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that the Nexus or anyone else was simply going to accept her relationship with a shady exile. But she loved him enough to fight for it. To fight for _them_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm admittedly pretty pleased with this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed it! We're in the final stretch with just 5 chapters left. I'm grateful that so many of you have stuck with the story this far <3


	22. Vetted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes negotiates with the Nexus leaders, and Ryder faces off with Tann.

Reyes carried Ryder down to her quarters on the Tempest the long way to avoid making her use a ladder, assuring her that he’d start selecting candidates for the meeting she’d arranged. She fell asleep before they got there, her face tucked into his chest. The strain of the battles for Meridian, the Archon severing her from SAM, and her frying her brain to manipulate Remnant tech had finally caught up to her, and even when she wasn’t comatose she tended to crash into a deep sleep. After her masterful manipulation of both himself and the Nexus leaders, he wasn’t surprised that she was exhausted.

He settled her gently on the bed and tucked the covers in around her, stroking a strand of blue hair out of her face. She didn’t stir, even when he settled himself on his side of the bed with a satisfied groan, then propped himself up against the headboard. He couldn’t be more pleased with how today’s events had turned out.

Since the day he first met her, Ryder had never quite seemed settled into her role as Pathfinder. She’d even expressed not wanting the job and doing it out of duty, or feeling that Cora or Scott would have been better in it. He wasn’t sure what had changed, whether it was his telling her about the blackmail attempt or having SAM as a solid backup plan or something getting knocked loose in her head with the beating she’d taken fighting for Meridian, but she’d taken her destiny into her hands today and _owned_ it.

Her plan was a risky one, for both of them. They both had enemies who wouldn’t hesitate to attack a romantic partner to get to them. Both had people on their own sides who were adamantly opposed to the other side. Both had a lot to lose if the deal went sideways. But he’d be able to help her more openly. They could do normal things on Kadara, like a real couple. And he had an opportunity to insert himself as an agent on the Nexus, not only to be present on the station but with his hand on the pulse, to read it...or to cut it off, if necessary.

The arousal he’d felt when she laid out her terms had been nearly overwhelming. Seeing her step fully into the role that had been forced on her, having her meet him head-to-head, Pathfinder to Charlatan, to make demands and reach for what she wanted...he’d had to remind himself repeatedly of Lexi’s warning. She wasn’t completely recovered, and bending her over the conference table for a fuck would have been well out of order. He hadn’t been able to resist kissing her to seal the deal, and her defiance even in that had had him holding on to his self-control by a fingernail. 

She was the Pathfinder in more than just name, now. He’d always believed in and respected her intelligence and capabilities, but he hadn’t realized until today how much her ambivalence toward being Pathfinder had been holding her back. He couldn’t wait to see where things went from here.

_Speaking of going forward_ … Reyes opened a voice call to Keema on his omnitool, carefully getting up and going over to the couch to avoid disturbing Ryder. Her pet pyjack, usually banished to the garage, had somehow snuck into her quarters in the absence of anyone on the ship to keep it in one place. He scratched its head tentatively and made a mental note to feed it before they left. It was beyond him why she had a pyjack, and it was the first time he’d actually encountered it, but since it didn’t bite him the least he could do was leave it a snack. It wouldn’t be living in their apartment on Kadara though, that was for sure.

“Yes?” his second answered quickly, not having heard from him in two days. 

He spoke quietly. “I have news. Are you alone?” When she confirmed she was, Reyes gave her the short version of the day’s events.

“Stars and skies,” Keema breathed. “Reyes, she’s offered you -”

“Everything I’ve ever wanted, and more,” Reyes supplied, “All for the cost of being a better man, keeping her safe, and not fucking things up.”

Keema barked a laugh. “Then you have your work cut out for you. You’re a criminal, she seems determined to injure herself in the most creative ways possible, and there are a million ways to fuck this up.”

Reyes scrubbed a hand over his face, then glanced over at Ryder. She was still sleeping peacefully. “I know. And the risks involved are considerable, for both of us. But the potential payoff...Keema, I had to accept.”

“Yes, you did, or you wouldn’t be worthy of leading us,” Keema said bluntly. “I want a cut. If you’re going to be coordinating strategy for Kadara and Elaaden, and now between the Collective and the Initiative, you won’t have time for the day-to-day management on Kadara anymore.”

It hurt, badly, but she was right. Kadara was his home in Andromeda, but his ambitions had outgrown it. If he was going to keep up with Ryder, he needed to make adjustments. Reyes sighed heavily, not because Keema didn’t deserve it, but because it would be one more step toward a new, as-yet-unplanned future. “Consider yourself promoted, effective as soon as I secure a place for the Collective in Nexus affairs. We’ll need to manage it carefully, reshuffle a few more posts at the same time to make it look like several of us are being elevated, but you’ve earned it.”

“Thank you.” Keema sounded relieved, as if she’d expected him to push back or punish her for making demands. Before Ryder, he might have. The Collective was _his_ , and he would always be King of Kadara, but a wise man knew when to delegate in favor of focusing on the bigger picture. Ryder had offered him the best kind of deal, where both parties felt they’d won, and he needed to honor it. “Your compensation will increase accordingly as well, as soon as I get new trade deals in place.”

“You’re a true friend,” she replied, delightedly. “Now, how can I help make this happen?”

Reyes thought quickly. “Ryder will be sending the formal request for a delegation. I’m putting together a shortlist of who I think should be on it but I want your input. A mixed bag of nine, plus me, and not all lieutenants in case this goes sideways. Three angara, plus roughly even numbers of humans, salarians, turians, and if you can find a suitable one, krogan. Several should have fought at Meridian and the Milky Ways can’t have committed a crime on the Nexus...although, come to think of it, add two that have just to see how stringent their security checks are.” No harm in killing two birds with one stone. “We’ll provide a list of twelve so that they feel like they have some say in this.”

They hashed out a few more details before Reyes signed off and returned to check on Ryder. She hadn’t moved and was still breathing evenly. 

“Reyes, Dr T’Perro is attempting to reach the Pathfinder. Shall I transfer the call to your omnitool?” SAM asked.

“Yes please.” The doctor was probably wondering where they were; they’d been gone for a good three hours now. He answered the call when it pinged. “Vidal.”

“...Vidal? Where’s Ryder?”

Reyes sat carefully on the bed and pulled the sheets up around Ryder a bit more. “She’s asleep on the Tempest. The call with the Nexus took about two hours and she was exhausted.”

“Why didn’t you bring her back to the Hyperion?”

He scowled, unseen by Lexi, but it bled into his voice. “Because carrying an unconscious Pathfinder through the ark would have caused panic? SAM knows to alert you if anything goes wrong, and she’s not seizing or bleeding from the nose, so I decided to put her to bed.”

“Is that a euphemism for something?”

Reyes chuckled, rubbing Ryder’s back to sooth her when she stirred. “Unfortunately not. She’d probably kill me if I did something that made her spend more time on bed rest.”

Lexi _hmmm_ ed. “Fine. She can stay there for now. SAM, contact me immediately if anything changes, please.”

“I shall, Dr T’Perro,” SAM confirmed. “I do not think she will need to be reinduced into a comatose state, so long as she avoids Remnant technology and mind-altering substances for another four weeks. She should be able to begin rehabilitation exercises.”

“Good to know. Thanks, SAM.” Lexi ended the call, and Reyes returned to the sofa. “We’re lucky to have you, SAM,” he told the AI as he opened his list of Collective agents and started reviewing the first profile. 

“Thank you, Reyes. Do you require assistance with anything else?”

“Not right now. Just keep an eye on Ryder, okay?”

SAM said that he would, and Reyes dove into the dossiers on his people. 

***

It was about as hard to get his list approved as he thought it would be. Agreeing on the Collective representatives with Keema took a few days, screening and interviewing them took several more, and then the process had to be repeated with the Nexus. They caught and rejected both of his test additions, letting him know Kandros’ security measures were at least as good as Sloane’s had been when she was head of security. 

Ryder recused herself from serving both on the vetting panel and as a character witness using her recovery as an excuse, wisely avoiding the possibility that she would be recognized by one of his people or asked a question that would touch too closely on their hidden relationship. The rehabilitation exercises had her in a frightful mood and she often napped during the day, so nobody forced the issue.

Despite having already passed a review on the Hyperion, Kandros insisted on interviewing him personally. Fortunately, Reyes’ criminal activity had all started once he'd arrived on Kadara and there was nothing for the turian to find as far as the Initiative was concerned, nothing to twist. He'd been a simple shuttle pilot, nothing more, and had completed his duties as assigned. The shuttle that was now his had been a part of the group allocated to the exiles for their exodus, not one of the stolen ones, and he'd sold off or delivered all of his smuggled goods before heading to Meridian, intending to leave Ryder a little something of he didn't make it through the battle, so there were no suspicious goods to discover when Kandros insisted on an inspection. 

In the end, he passed his vetting. Ryder's part of their deal was complete, and he was one step closer to the negotiation table.

***

The next two weeks passed in a blur of activity. Most of his time was taken up with planning with Keema and welcoming the members of his delegation as they filtered in. None of them had any idea who he really was, only that he'd been chosen to lead the negotiations by the Charlatan, and were as impressed by that fact as they were that he spent his free time with the Pathfinder.

Ryder continued to strengthen. Although she was still off-limits for rigorous physical activity he was free to cuddle, massage, and kiss her as much as he liked, which was sometimes the only thing that would get her out of the moods that settled over her at the slowness of her recovery. She had stubbornly refused to go back to the Pathfinder's quarters on the Hyperion. With Reyes cleared by Kandros and Ryder likely to snap someone’s head off for looking at her funny nobody dared question what he was doing on the Tempest, so they were able to spend plenty of time together even if they were working on other things. They weren’t openly together yet, having decided to wait until after negotiations were completed, but neither was particularly bothered at the whispers about how much time they were spending together. In any case, her crew had floated back aboard when she declared her intention to live there while they were on Meridian, so it wasn't as if they were alone on the ship.

Finally, the day of the negotiations arrived. He smiled in genuine pleasure as the Nexus leadership arrived at Meridian control to meet them, amused because he'd been behind the scenes when Ryder arranged this meeting. The Pathfinder herself, looking grumpy, stood between the two parties as arbiter. Lexi hadn't cleared her for combat yet, but she was armed and fully armored, an unsubtle warning for everyone to behave themselves.

It turned out to have been a good idea, as the negotiations got heated more than once. After the formal welcomes and thank yous for saving their asses from the Nexus leaders, Reyes asked for far more than he knew they were going to get, infuriating every member of the council at least twice. 

The very existence of the Collective seemed to offend Tann and Addison, and none of them liked his demands for unlimited access to the Nexus, generous trade deals, and free movement between Kadara Port and the Initiative stations. At one point Ryder intervened with a barked, “Hey! Act like the adults you are, or I'll sling you out of this meeting so fast you'll hit light speed.” Smirking, Reyes stepped back into the fray, where two of his people had been screaming with Addison and Tann. The solution he offered only looked reasonable because the original demand for special trade status with the colonies had been so unreasonable, and Kesh looked at him sharply but said nothing when Addison agreed to it. The colonies were Addison’s purview, not hers. 

If it didn't offer him so many opportunities, their fractured, selfish leadership would be frightening. Had been, back when he was on the Nexus. It was no wonder things had been allowed to progress to a riot. Kesh’s look also reminded him that it was probably a good thing he and Ryder hadn't fucked in weeks; the krogan probably would have smelled...something...and been tipped off that the Pathfinder was less impartial than she appeared.

He didn't get everything on his list in the end, but he got enough. A formal trade deal to supply raw materials and other goods needed by the Initiative and which the colonies weren't yet in a position to supply, access to the docking area on the Nexus, acknowledgment of Kadara as a free port, free movement of pre-screened Kadarans between Kadara and Initiative outposts, and himself as formal representative of the port in meetings that involved the colonies. The last point had been proposed along with the idea that their colonies should also have a say, making them look nervously thoughtful. His demands for a formal apology and reparations for those who hadn't participated in violent acts but were exiled anyway were rejected outright, but Reyes had only thrown them in to give the Nexus leadership something to focus on being totally against.

All in all, he was pleased, although he was careful to keep a disgruntled look on his face to match the one worn by the council. His invitation to them to visit Kadara Port was not-so-politely turned down by Tann, which made his people mutter about folks who thought they were better than others.

As everyone prepared to leave, Ryder whistled. “There’s one more thing.” When everyone's eyes turned to her, she said, “The Tempest's new home port, and my base of operations, will be Kadara. Assuming your Charlatan permits it, Mr Vidal.”

Reyes was careful not to smile, although his heart leapt. She was coming home. Over Tann’s loud objections, Reyes said smoothly, “I'm sure a mutually beneficial agreement can be reached, Pathfinder.” 

She nodded before turning to Tann. “That's _enough_ , Director. It may not be the _Pathfinder Initiative_ ,” she sneered, and Reyes’ eyebrows shot up at the venom in her tone, “but an Initiative presence in Kadara Port will help cement smooth relations. Vidal has been my information broker and bodyguard for months. Without his assistance, Ditaeon either wouldn’t exist or would be heavily taxed and targeted by the Outlaws. I trust him to take my request back to the Charlatan and arrange something suitable. Unless you don't trust me to represent the Initiative's interests, in which case I recommend setting up an embassy to avoid the kind of... miscommunications...that resulted in the exile to begin with. We have an embassy with the angara, why not one with the Collective?”

The other Collective representatives elbowed him and slapped his shoulder at this public recognition. Tann glared, Kandros looked bored, Addison calculating, and Kesh amused. _Bold play, mi amor_. 

“We'll discuss this further later, Pathfinder,” Tann lisped, drawing himself up and turning to leave. 

Ryder's feral grin was not pleasant. “No, we won't. When I found Meridian, you said you should have trusted my judgment.” She let that hang in the air for a moment, waiting for it to sink in that the idyllic world they were standing on was only theirs because she had gone against the will of Tann and the others. “You were extended an invitation to the port and refused. I won't let you ruin an alliance you've just made when we need to build strong relationships against the return of the kett. _Everyone_ in the cluster will need to stand together. I choose to show Kadara we stand with them now, rather than waiting for the kett to come knocking on our door to remember who our friends are.”

Reyes glanced around at his people, saw them puff up with pride. Kandros had gone from bored to thoughtful. Kesh was grinning outright at the sight of Tann squirming. Addison had apparently found an opportunity for a power grab, because she said, “A colonial embassy is an interesting idea. I don't see any harm in letting the Pathfinder fill the role temporarily.”

Ryder's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she nodded sharply to Addison. Kandros seemed swayed by the idea of having more people to help fight the kett, and Kesh, he'd noticed, picked her battles. Reyes felt his chest fill with pride. She'd probably made a lifelong enemy of Tann, but had presented herself as a bridge-builder, someone willing to do what the leadership was not. The pitfall, of course, was what would happen when word got out that they were together. He could see someone like Tann putting resources into making a scandal, turning her genuine desire to bring the exiles back into the fold on its head and making it look like a plot against the Nexus. She could go from hero to traitor in a day.

Of course, she'd always have him and the Collective you fall back on, and hopefully, the threat of the kett would be enough to keep Tann focused elsewhere, but it was something for the Charlatan to keep in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Careful, Ryder...it's a long fall when you climb so high, and your enemies may not always be immediately apparent O_O.
> 
> But yay! The Collective is in! And now it's time to celebrate!


	23. Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes and Ryder celebrate victory and recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut :)

Ryder walked back with Reyes under the guise of hammering out what she would offer the Charlatan in exchange for a permanent docking slip and lodgings on Kadara. He was as amused as ever with the game of pretending that he wasn’t the Charlatan, and from the tiny quirk of a smile on one corner of her lip, so was she. 

With the successful negotiations, things were coming together spectacularly for him. The Nexus leaders stayed for a day to marvel at the lush perfection of Meridian, but headed back for the Nexus the following day. He managed to avoid them entirely, deciding it would be best not to remind them of his presence in case Tann was still sore over the whole affair. 

They'd arranged to have an election for colonial representation before they left. Ryder had discussed it with him, leaning toward August Bradley as her choice to support, and he agreed with her. He sounded like a fair-minded, competent man, dedicated to the colonies, who wouldn’t stand in the way of any of Reyes’ plans or upset the balance of power before each of the other independent parties - the angara and the krogan at New Tuchanka - were able to get their own representation. He couldn’t see Morda or Evfra standing for being lumped in with the rest of the colonies, but he could see both of them trying to maintain control over the other groups if they were in charge and either would upset the current balance too far in one direction or another. Useful at the right time, but not right now. The more people they could get to counterbalance the Initiative leadership, the more difficult it would be for Tann to act like the little tyrant he was, and hopefully it would give him enough to think about that he wasn’t so concerned with Ryder’s defiance. 

It was the first political decision they'd made together and it excited him to work with her like this. Up to now, he'd been more or less content to work through her, using her connections or skills where they suited the needs of the Collective. But this was a whole new level, a new evolution of their relationship that hinted at what they could build working as one. This first decision could set the Collective up as an effective third power in Heleus alongside the Initiative and the Resistance, and his mind spun with ideas for what he would do, how he could ensure opportunities for the people under his protection to live productively and well.

***

A party had been arranged to welcome the Collective. He attended, of course, along with his fellow representatives. While they sought out friends and family left behind or made new connections amongst the people of the Hyperion, Reyes found a dark corner with a good view and nursed a glass of whiskey. This counted as working since he was here on official business for the Collective, and his three-drink maximum was in force until he returned to the Tempest this evening. 

He closed his eyes for a moment and savored the burn of the alcohol as it slipped comfortingly down his throat. With Ryder banned from mind-altering substances - including alcohol - for the duration of her recovery he had abstained as well, not wanting to indulge while she couldn’t. Still, whiskey was one of life’s pleasures, and he never denied himself a pleasure without good reason. Lexi had cleared her for active duty last night though, which meant whiskey and sex were both back on the table. Literally, if he had his way. 

It had been a good six weeks - more probably - since Reyes had had more than his hand to satisfy him, and he ached for Ryder. He watched her as she circulated through the gathering, accepting congratulations for the victory over the Archon and the alliance with the Collective. She carried herself differently now. It was hard to put a finger on, but it was the difference between a middling predator and an apex predator. He'd always thought of her as a little leopard, but the beast within her was grown now and it only made him want her more. As much as they were as individuals, they'd be even greater together.

They weren't quite openly together yet, though, so were forced to stand a little farther apart than they wanted to when she spoke with him. There would certainly be none of the pinning her to the wall and kissing her that he wanted, so he'd proposed a storeroom. Ryder's reaction was making him think she'd anticipated him; there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes that could mean only one thing and he was dying to find her again. They'd both been too busy and exhausted last night when Lexi’s medical sign-off had come through, collapsing into bed together with the intention of fucking only to find themselves waking up half-undressed the next morning, having fallen asleep just enjoying being close to each other.

His omnitool pinged with a navpoint from Ryder. No explanation, just an absurdly small room, which could only mean one thing. He downed his whiskey and set off to find it.

She was naked when the door slid open, and the sight of her shocked him senseless. It had been so long since he’d seen her fully undressed that for the first time he could remember, words failed him. She smirked, asking SAM to close and lock the door before stalking up to him and kissing him, pushing her tongue into his mouth and pressing herself against him. His body took over from his frozen mind, and his hands ran over her curves. Her low moan set his blood on fire.

“You're overdressed for this occasion, Mr Vidal,” she said huskily when she pulled back, hands busy undoing his belt and trousers. They dropped while he was looking for words, and so did she. The nails of one hand dragged down his flank and thigh as she did, making him hiss in a mixture of pain and pleasure as she stroked his rapidly growing erection and took him into her mouth. 

He buried the fingers of one hand in her hair while his mind raced to realign itself. She was no longer injured and off-limits; she was ready for action and sucking his cock like it would release the waters of the fountain of youth when he came.

And he was going to come quickly this time, there was no avoiding it, so he let her stay where she was. He'd fuck her properly once he'd recovered, but she was doing that thing where she massaged behind his balls while deepthroating him and...he felt his orgasm wash over him, the clench of his balls as he fisted his hands in her hair to hold her with his cock at the back of her throat. He thought he was finished, but she swallowed, pulling one last shot from him. 

When she'd sucked him dry she settled back on her heels and looked up at him. “Looks like you missed me,” she teased, licking her lips. 

“ _That_ is an understatement,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed at his unusual lack of stamina. She grinned. “So now that you've had part of your thank you for taking care of me, how about I show you the rest?”

The rest, whatever it was, would probably kill him if it was anything like what she had just delivered. Still, he was curious. “Not that I need thanks...but what else is there?” he asked.

She stood and stepped lightly over to a crate, bending over it to reach for something behind it and giving him a fine view of exactly where he wanted to be next. When she popped back up, she had a bottle in hand. “It's not Mount Milgrom...but I hope a Macallen will do?” She presented the bottle with genuine hope in her eyes.

What had he done to deserve this woman? “Ryder, where did you find this?”

She smiled as she handed it over. “Oh, you know...around.”

“Thank you, _mi amor_. We're saving this for when we get home to Kadara,” he told her, brushing the label reverently before setting it off to the side where he wouldn't break it. “For right now…” He shrugged off his jacket, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him for a kiss, then lifted her to sit on a smooth crate. She spread her knees as he knelt in front of her to return the favor, pausing to drink in the sight of her. Her eyes were wicked and her lips parted in anticipation when he glanced up. 

The taste of her was even better than he remembered, or maybe it was just that it had been so long since he'd had the pleasure. He pulled her legs over his shoulders and she gripped the crate, leaning back to give him greater access. He traced his tongue along her lower lips and clit, then swirled it. She was already wet, so he probed into her with a finger, carefully at first, then faster when she moved with him. She was so tight and hot that he felt his cock stir faster than he'd expected it to and kept up his movements, flicking and sucking on her clit while curling his finger against the spot inside her that he knew would tip her over. 

She collapsed back on her elbows when she came, and he kept going, moving fingers and tongue with a steady rhythm until her shudders stopped. Before she had time to recover he was on his feet, stripping his shirt off and leaning over her, cock ready at her entrance. Unable to help himself, he caught her by the throat. Her eyes flashed open, the feral hunger deep in them matching what was burning in him. She fought him for a few moments and he tightened his grip until she was gasping. She struggled a little longer, finally laying back and submitting when he squeezed a bit more. Out there, they were equals. In here...he was the Charlatan, and she was _his_ Pathfinder. He rolled a nipple between his fingers, then pinched it, getting a low moan out of her.

“Do you want this?” he growled. He loved to hear her say it, and she knew it. 

“Yes. Hard.” The words came out as a pant, and she reached for him.

He gave her what she wanted, slamming into her and going straight to her core. Her hands flew to cover her mouth and hold back a scream as her body tried to arch upwards, still pinned down by his hand on her throat. He'd forgotten all the people who might pass by and the need to be quiet or be caught with his trousers around his ankles, balls-deep in the Pathfinder. This was going to be fun.

He released her throat to toy with her as he fucked her, pinching the other nipple, rubbing her clit, biting her lip when he bent over to kiss her, all while fucking her with the furious pace demanded by their long abstinence. The noises she made trying not to cry out were fascinating. At one point she tired of biting her own hand and bit him, forcing a grunt out of him as he swallowed a roar of pained pleasure. She bit him again when she came, over his collarbone. It would probably leave a mark.

“Where do you want me to finish?” he panted. This was her surprise so he'd let her run the show today.

“Mouth. No evidence,” she gasped.

“Clever woman,” he growled as he pulled out, dragged her off the crate, and got her lips around his cock just in time to explode into her for a second time. It was no less intense for having been his second in less than an hour and he dropped down next to her on the floor when he was done. “Nice to have you back, _mi amor_ ,” he said, then pulled her in for a kiss.

“Nice to _be_ back,” she replied against his lips. “I missed that.” 

He winked as he leaned back to recover his shirt. “Now that you're moving to Kadara, maybe we can do it more often.” Her eyes widened, a look of delight taking over her features, and he laughed.

While she dressed, he wiped the sweaty outline of her body from the crate with the inside of his jacket and tucked the whiskey bottle under his arm.

“You go,” she said, giving him a last kiss and stomping into a boot. “I'll catch up.” 

“Are we letting people find out about us now?” he asked. She smiled shyly. “Yeah. But pretend this was the first time. I was swept off my feet by how you took care of me while I was injured and your impressive leadership today.” He smirked, nodded, and stroked her cheek before leaving the storeroom, feeling like a new man.

Mantis was waiting in the main hall. The tall turian, one of his lieutenants, had been part of the group of Collective representatives here for negotiations. Reyes strolled up, turning to stand with his back against the wall. 

“Why do you look so fucking pleased, Vidal?” 

“Aside from our successful negotiations today?” Casually, Reyes tugged his shirt down for a moment, flashing the mark that had indeed formed on his collarbone. “Pay up,” he demanded, referring to the betting pool that his lieutenants had been running to see who could get a shot with the Pathfinder. She was his, and if she was moving to Kadara he'd have no misunderstandings that might make him have to punish an otherwise good agent for harassing her.

Ryder sauntered by just then with perfect timing, hips swinging, unable to hide her grin and flushing slightly when she looked at him.

“Shit, Vidal, seriously?” Mantis’ mandibles fell slack and his subvocals hummed. 

“I only sat guard at her bedside for four weeks,” Reyes drawled, going with Ryder's story. “I guess she decided she liked the look of me.”

***

Later that evening was the real celebration, away from the prying eyes of the citizens of the Hyperion. Ryder invited all of the members of the Collective aboard the Tempest for poker and drinks. Morda’s krogan, Evfra’s Resistance fighters, and Kandros’ militia had all left while Ryder was recovering, and she was determined to have a party. 

Scott, finally awake and medically cleared as well, protested until Laz pointed out that they'd all been vetted by the Nexus. Her brother scowled, and Reyes pulled out a bottle of Kian's moonshine that he'd brought along just in case this kind of celebration happened. Knowing the Ryder twins, they'd be snapping back and forth all night if one of them wasn't distracted. He uncorked the bottle and put it in Laz’ hand, laughing when she took a sip without looking at it and immediately started coughing.

“ _Fuck_ , Reyes, what is this? Dinosaur piss?” With Laz no longer paying attention and the room in a general uproar at her reaction, Scott rolled his eyes and headed for a quieter part of the ship. Laz handed the bottle back and he started introductions. She knew a few of his people already, which was a pleasant surprise. Lynx she was friendly with despite cracking a joke about the asari having held a gun to her face once, which made him narrow his eyes until he remembered that clusterfuck of orders not making it out to Draullir in a timely fashion. Lynx would have been doing her job, protecting the cell. 

Seeing all of his people present - it seemed none of them wanted to miss the chance to go aboard the famous Tempest - he hopped up on a crate and dragged Ryder up next to him. She flushed when he dropped an arm over his shoulder but put hers around his waist. _That_ was almost as satisfying as their earlier fun in the storeroom. His people whooped and catcalled and he shushed them. 

“Listen up! We’re here to celebrate two victories: kicking the Archon’s ass at Meridian, and the Collective’s alliance with the Nexus.” The assembled crowd, slowly growing with Tempest crew, raised glasses and clapped or whistled. “We have this woman to thank for making both happen, and I’ve just received word that the Charlatan has cleared her for residence and a permanent docking slip in Kadara Port, so make sure she feels welcome. I’ll certainly do _my_ part,” he grinned, bouncing his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

The room erupted in cheers, and Ryder smiled up at him. He couldn’t help but kiss her, which raised the cheers to a roar of approval. To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer for a moment before releasing him.

“Do I get one too?” shouted Mantis. 

“If you wanna put up with me for a month the next time I melt my brain, yeah, you can have a kiss,” Ryder sassed back to mocking laughter. 

“Wait, you’re going to melt your brain again?” Reyes jumped off the crate with a look of mock horror. “She is all yours, Mantis!”

As funny as they found that, Ryder’s jumping onto his back with a shouted, “You can’t get rid of me that easily!” was met with mixed laughter and sounds of “awww”. He realized with a flash of insight that it wasn’t necessarily that she was publicly prudish, it was that she had been reluctant to be demonstrative in front of her crew or people she felt she needed to impress. Given her youth and the difficulty she’d had getting anyone to take her seriously, he could understand and sympathize with that, although he still didn't feel bad that he’d used it to tease her. 

She kissed the corner of his jaw, then slid down to stand and captured his hand with hers. He squeezed it, basking in the physical display of affection and togetherness even as he noticed Scott looking at her with an exasperated look that suggested he found her to be a disgrace. 

What Scott didn’t realize, and what made Laz better for dealing with his people, was that they responded to her authenticity far more than they would have had she maintained the aloof air of an Initiative Pathfinder. The Pathfinder they would have respected for what she’d achieved. Lazuli Ryder they _liked_. She was one of the people, one of _them_ , even if she carried the weight of the Initiative behind her. Laz might be unconventional, but she was light years ahead of her twin when it came to connecting with real people and not politicians or officers.

Eventually, they got everyone round the poker table. Suvi again served as the dealer, with the table evenly split: Ryder, Gil, Vetra, and Liam from the Tempest and Reyes, Lynx, Mantis, and Feldin, a salarian, from the Collective. Whiskey, moonshine, and ryncol flowed freely, although he and Ryder both drank sparingly in case their people needed to be brought back into order. 

The game went late while those not playing turned down the lights in the rest of the garage, turned up the music, and danced. Reyes noted a couple on Liam’s horrid sofa, but they were so far down each other's throats that he couldn’t tell who they were. 

Ryder had apparently decided not to use SAM to cheat this time and was knocked out in fourth place. Probably a good strategic move - nobody liked someone who was good at everything. Gil eventually won, beating out Reyes and Feldin in a final high-stakes hand, and was borne around the room on Drack’s shoulders as the champion of the Tempest to good-natured laughter. 

As night eased toward morning, Reyes herded his people off the Tempest, smirking at suggestions as to why he was so keen for everyone to get off the ship - all of them accurately having to do with what he might have planned for the Pathfinder - until his people were gone and the Tempest crew had found their bunks. He gathered Ryder to him, tucking her head under his chin and simply enjoying the feel of her in his arms. 

“This was a good night,” she murmured. “It finally feels like we won.”

“Does that mean you’re up for another celebration?” he purred. She tilted her head and nipped at his throat. “Depends on what kind of celebrations you have in mind…” she said huskily. He kissed her and started walking, forcing her backwards for a few steps before she turned and walked with him. As soon as the door to her quarters shut behind them his hands were busy undoing her trousers and pushing them down. Hers fumbled to yank his jacket off, then his shirt. They nearly toppled over trying to kiss while getting their boots off, finally breaking apart to strip off their trousers and her top, and then she was crashing back into him, trying to devour him even as he tried to consume her. 

They weren’t going to make it to the bed, so Reyes hoisted her up and spun to pin her against the door. The words “fuck me” were a repeated plea gasped as she kissed him and nibbled his earlobes, and as soon as he had himself in place he obliged her. She threw her head back and screamed when he thrust upwards into her, probably hitting her head against the door but not appearing to care as she desperately panted his name. 

For a short space of time nothing existed but the clenching heat of her around his cock, the flash of pain as her nails dug into him, the prayer his name became in her pleasure. When her noises changed he knew she was on the edge, and she helped herself over by reaching down to rub her clit so he could use all his strength to hold her up and maintain his driving pace into her. Her thighs tightened around his hips. As she came, he bit her over the collarbone to give her a mark that mirrored the one she’d given him earlier. She screamed, passionate and uninhibited, and he roared against her throat as he followed her. 

When they were both done he carried her backwards to the bed, kissing her with every step, slipping himself out carefully before sitting down with her in his lap. She clung to him tightly, trembling, and he traced a hand up and down her spine and murmured nonsensical words of love in Spanish. It wasn’t often that she did this; he could only remember a handful of other times, including the first time they’d fucked and the first time he’d tied her up. It always seemed to be when she felt more emotional than usual, and he always held her while she rode it out, tried to make sure she felt loved and safe. 

When her grip on him started to relax, he leaned back and pulled her down on top of him. She buried her face in his neck, still shaking slightly. “I love you, Reyes,” she whispered. 

“And I you,” he murmured back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 3 chapters left! O_O  
> You all are AMAZING for making it this far. I love you!


	24. X (Marks the Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone in Kadara Port is happy with the Collective allying with the Initiative.

Morning sunlight streamed through the windows of the apartment Keema had given them, and Reyes watched how its soft glow illuminated Ryder's features while she slept. He had awakened before her, as usual, but instead of getting to work and reading reports he'd stayed in bed, transfixed by the idea that she was home, and that they had a home _together_. 

The beam of sun slowly lengthened, and she stretched unconsciously to take advantage of it, kicking the blankets off to expose more of her lean, toned body. Gently, so as not to wake her, he ran a hand up her thigh and over her belly, feeling the ripple of muscle as it clenched reflexively when his palm passed over her navel. Her blue hair looked like a star's fire spread over the black pillow, the intricate mandala tattoo around her right ear like a magic talisman. “I love you,” he whispered into that ear, just in case it _was_ magic. 

She stirred slightly, and he studied the way the light hit each of her dark lashes, how enticing it made the curve of her lips and the peaks of her nipples. He always watched her, but only got the chance to consider her so closely at moments like these. Little pauses in time that he hoped would become more frequent now. 

These rare moments of peace were a balm that helped him avoid losing himself completely to the Charlatan. She was a sparking bundle of pure energy when she was awake, always thinking, always moving. The spirit she exuded seemed palpable sometimes, something he could fuel himself with when he had to do something ugly that leeched his own vitality. It had become stronger in the days since she’d settled into their apartment at Collective HQ, partly because she had grown into her role and partly because she felt free to be herself, and he drank it in. Still...there was something to be said for seeing her like this.

A deeper intake of breath signaled that she was waking up. Her eyelids fluttered, opened, squinted at the sun coming in. She turned toward him and breathed deeply again, making a satisfied _mmmm_ as she caught his scent. “Good morning, love,” she murmured, voice husky with sleep and, he hoped, a bit more. 

“ _Buenos días, mi amor_ ,” he purred back, kissing her forehead. She turned onto her side and snuggled closer, a low, evil chuckle slipping from her as her thigh encountered his hard-on. “Wake me up a bit, and I’ll help you with that,” she breathed, kissing his neck. Reyes was all too happy to oblige, running a hand over her hip and between her legs, finding her clit with ease. He started gently at first, knowing it made her crazy for rougher play, and she growled sleepily, shifting to grind herself harder into his hand. 

He kissed her aggressively, forcing her onto her back again, and she groaned as he increased the pressure and pace of the fingers rubbing against her clit. When she gasped against his mouth and arched back, he plunged two fingers into her, seeking her G-spot. Propped on an elbow, he kept her pinned down with that hand on her throat while he sucked on one nipple, then the other, his fingers still stroking deep within her and his thumb busy on her nub. 

“I’m awake, Reyes!” she panted. He kept going, relishing having her under his power, as he always did. His mouth on her nipple became a bite, the fingers inside her flicked faster, and she made a choked sound of passion as her body bucked upwards. It reminded him of the first time they’d been together, after Sloane’s party.

“Hmmm...are you sure?” he teased. Her eyes, closed to focus on her pleasure, shot open, locking on his with a blue-green flame made brighter by sunlight. “Fuck. Me,” she demanded, trying to lunge for his lips and strangling herself when he didn’t let up on her throat.

“You know better than that,” he reminded her with a forceful stroke inside her that made her jerk. She started begging, growing increasingly desperate as she got closer to her climax. When he judged her just about there, he pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his cock, by now throbbing with denied want for her. She came almost immediately, and he smothered her cry with a fierce kiss. Her grip on his ass pulled him deeper as her mouth opened for his tongue. 

When she was finished, he levered himself up to his knees and spread her thighs wide, making long, deep strokes that were angled to her G-spot as he rubbed her clit with his thumb. She writhed under his touch, reaching up to push against the headboard and lifting her hips at every stroke to help him drive even deeper. Working together, they both came in a matter of minutes and he folded forward over her, groaning with bliss as he spilled his seed in her. She grasped his arms with both hands, squeezing hard enough that he knew he’d be wearing the half-moon marks of her nails later. 

With a nip at the pulse in her neck, he withdrew, leaning over the edge of the bed to grab his shirt and tuck it under her. He wanted to cuddle for a bit, and she hated laying in a wet spot. Besides, he lived for the adoring look she gave him when he did it - the one she was giving him now as she swept a hand along his brow to push his hair back into its usual style. The one that made him feel like he was a good man, leading a normal life, with the woman he thought of as his wife. 

_Wait...wife?_ He froze as he doubled checked that thought. No, it was correct. Sometime in the last month, while he’d cared for her and prayed to a god he’d never believed in that she would make a full recovery, the want to have her forever had strengthened. Seeing her completely broken and still wanting to stand by her rather than moving on, putting up with her snappish moods and depressive swings when recovery was slow in coming, just felt like it balanced with the contentment he felt now. It was too fast, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was right.

Her brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concern in her voice. He flopped onto his back and pulled her on top of him, holding her close, too close to see his face as more feelings tripped through him. Fear, adoration, anxiety, desire, defiance, love. “Nothing,” he murmured, slipping into the Charlatan’s emotionless comfort. She fought him, trying to lever herself up and look at him, but he held her tight until she subsided with a huff. He kissed her cheek to take the sting out of his action. “ _Te amo_ , Laz. Never forget that.”

It was true, and it worked. Tension fled her, and she wiggled closer. “Fine, keep your secrets, Charlatan,” she griped good-naturedly. “I hope you just remembered you’ve forgotten to lock your shuttle, and not that you’ve forgotten to tell me some big stuff.”

He frowned. Technically this was _big stuff_ , so technically he should tell her. But he didn’t think it fell under what she had intended when she made him promise to tell her about that kind of thing, so did it count as something he was obliged to tell her? It _was_ too soon, wasn't it? It hadn't quite been a year since he'd walked into Kralla’s Song and told her she looked like she was waiting for someone...but his sister always said he would know when he'd met the right person. Either way, he was going to sort it out. A ring? Did she wear rings? _Something._

“Something I need to add to my to-do list,” he murmured. Fortunately, it distracted her. 

“Oh! That reminds me. I’m headed out to the badlands to train Scott up a bit. The council signed off on my recommendation to train backup Pathfinders in case the kett do something to make me fry my brain again, so I want to show him a vault and pit him against some Remnant.”

Reyes pulled back to look at her. “You’ll be careful?” She hadn’t touched Remtech since her recovery, and the idea of her doing so made him anxious, but he’d seen what happened to those who stood in her way. 

She nodded, dropping a kiss on his forehead as she glanced at the digital clock holo next to the bed. “Shit, I’m going to be late,” she hissed. Glancing back down at him, she smiled lopsidedly. “Worth it.”

He smirked and let her go when she pulled away. As Ryder flew around the room, tugging on underarmor and layering the full suit overtop of it, he opened his omnitool to start reviewing the morning’s reports. 

“Where’s my Eagle?” she muttered, peering under the bed as she slung her Mattock over her shoulder. He reached over to the table on her side of the bed to grab the pistol and hand it to her. “Thanks, love.” She leaned over and kissed him, a quick but passionate brush of her lips on his. “See you later!” Reyes made some response but wasn’t cognizant of what it was as she dashed out the door. The message he’d just opened felt like a knife in his ribs, sharp and twisting. 

The subject line read, _< X marks the spot  >_. He almost dismissed it as nonsense, but this wasn’t the Milky Way. Everyone was too busy surviving to send spam emails. When he selected it, the body of the message had two photos: himself and Ryder, both candid shots taken in Kadara Port. 

Both with a livid red X marked across the forehead.

Underneath her image was the word _Occupier_. Under his was written _Traitor_. The message was clear: someone was gunning for them. His stomach dropped with fear for Ryder, then roiled with rage. He’d heard whispers, both from his agents and in his own walks through the port, that while most people were excited by the increased opportunities, not everyone was happy with the Charlatan’s deal with the Initiative. Whether they had figured out he was the Charlatan or were simply going after him as an accessory to the Pathfinder, the result would be the same. The question was, how much did they know? Was the threat real? It had to be if they had his contact details. He didn’t share those out freely, and the people he worked with wouldn’t, either. Not unless they were under duress. If he called Ryder now, would they intercept the call and accelerate their plans? He couldn’t risk it. 

Throwing the covers off, he dressed hurriedly, making sure to grab the armored jacket rather than the synthleather one before heading downstairs to the throne room. At this hour Keema would probably still be in the adjoining audience chamber. 

He was right. The angaran woman was lounging in her favorite chair in a corner of the small room, scanning through a datapad while she smoked a cigar. She glanced up, back down at her datapad, and then up again. “What is it?” she asked. The Charlatan forwarded her the message, watched her receive and open it. Her startled reaction was genuine; angara, much like turians, found it difficult to lie effectively, and he knew Keema well enough to know when she was lying. One person he could trust, aside from Ryder. 

“Has Ryder seen this?” Keema asked sharply. The Charlatan shook his head, still too angry to speak. Who would _dare_? 

“Is it credible?” 

“I don’t know,” he grated out. “That’s your job to determine. Get people on it, now. Send it to our best hackers and see if it can be traced. Make a list of names I need to look into. And find out if anyone else who went to Meridian got a threat.” He turned to go. He’d start his own investigation, down in Tartarus. Kian might have heard something he missed, and if someone was coming for him he didn’t want it to be in his home. 

“Reyes…” He whirled, and Keema trailed off in the face of his glare. Her chin lifted. “We are not the Outcasts.”

Rage overtook him, hot and blinding, and he snarled as he took a step toward her. _Nobody_ threatened him, and _definitely_ not his woman. But she was right - he couldn’t deal with this as Sloane would have, with a witch hunt and executions, or he would become his enemy. He wrestled with himself as Keema sat perfectly still, silent, watchful. 

When he took a deep breath and dropped his hand from the butt of his pistol, she spoke again. “We’ll find them, and we’ll keep Ryder safe. But don’t become Sloane. Please.”

The Charlatan crammed his rage in a mental box and hammered the lid down tight. He couldn’t afford to be ruled by emotion in this. Feeling calmer, he nodded to Keema and stalked out without another word. 

***

Kian hadn't heard anything incriminating, but he promised to keep his ears open. The Charlatan spent the morning poring over reports from the date of the agreement with the Nexus to today, gathering little pieces here and there but uncovering nothing definitive. He debated about calling Ryder, finally deciding that if he didn't she'd consider it a breach of his promise.

She didn't pick up the first time he called, and he pushed down a wave of fear. She was probably just fighting.

Still, he rang through again. She was out of breath when she answered. “Hello love, everything ok?” 

What should he tell her? “I'm seeing reports that not everyone is happy with the deal with the Initiative.” It was an understatement, but this asshole was probably relying on one or both of them getting angry and making a mistake. The Pathfinder in particular was known to have a temper when pushed, and he’d seen her recklessness. She’d walked onto the Archon’s ship and straight into a trap, for fuck’s sake. “Watch your back, _mi reina_.”

Her voice sharpened, the way it did when she knew she was dealing with the Charlatan. “That bad? Do we know why they're unhappy?”

“No,” he said flatly, thinking of the words _Occupier_ and _Traitor_. “Not concretely.”

She didn’t answer immediately. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she accused softly. He opened his mouth to tell her, closed it again. “ _Dammit_ , Reyes, I love you but I _will_ walk. We had a deal. I didn’t piss off Tann and walk away only for you to take his place. We’re _partners_.”

That stung, but she was right. Still, the control freak in him resisted.

“I won’t ask you again,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

“ _Chuta_ ,” he swore in a growl. He’d have to tell her. He wouldn’t lose her over this, as much as he wanted to deal with it himself and protect her from it. “Some _culeado_ sent me a death threat this morning. You were included in it.” Rage was breaking through again, and English words were not expressive enough for what he felt. 

The comm was silent. Then, “A - what?” She sounded a little breathless. Then, in a steely tone, “Send it to me.”

“No.”

“Reyes -”

“ _No_.” She was no stranger to death or people wanting to kill her, but this was personal and graphic to a level that changed a person. Made them harder, darker...or broke them. He should know, and he didn’t want it to happen to her. He needed her light to find his way through his own darkness. “I’m dealing with it.” 

She stubbornly refused to answer, and he could see her fuming in his mind’s eye, at him, at the unknown coward who would do this, maybe even at herself for hoping everything would be okay despite their discussing that it might not be. 

“Ryder. I will handle this. I just need you to stay safe. Don’t go out alone, let someone know where you’re going, keep your armor on in port. Please,” he ended on a pleading note. _I can’t lose you_.

Her heavy sigh made him tense. “Fine. Let me know how I can help.”

“I have my people on it. Be careful.”

She ended the call with a resigned, “And you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, sweeping his feelings aside once again and organizing his mind. When he felt calmer, he went back to trying to figure out who this fucker was and whether any of his other agents were at risk. Two had reported threats to themselves and he'd sent out a general warning earlier, but without knowing who or what to look out for it would be difficult to keep watch.

***

The first death was reported later that afternoon. 

Vjeko, one of the men who had fought at Meridian and attended the negotiations, was dropped by a sniper in the docks. The port was in an uproar and Keema had been forced to close the area so that they could do something resembling an investigation, which only compounded unrest as business couldn’t be done until it was cleared. He would have loved to have the Pathfinder and her scanner, but she still hadn’t returned and the Charlatan couldn’t keep the docks closed forever. His people got photos and rudimentary crime scene evidence, collected the body, and were forced to re-open for business. 

As evening drew on the rumor mill raged. Violence had been down in the port since the Collective had taken over control, and a sniper was unusual in a place where knives, fists, and pistols were the order of the day. Everyone had a theory, and every theory became a rumor that joined with others and compounded to make it impossible to sift fact from fiction. The situation was quickly spiraling out of control, his hackers were hitting dead ends on every threat message, and the people he had investigating Vjeko’s body were coming up with nothing useful. With every hour they found nothing, the Charlatan felt wound tighter. 

If he went out himself, he’d be at risk of being shot. But not going out felt cowardly. His people were being targeted, his woman was out in the badlands and at risk, and he was safely locked away in Tartarus. Keema had warned him to keep his ass where it was, but it still felt like his actions were being dictated by fear. People were dying because he’d wanted this deal with the Initiative, and he was hiding, looking through reports. 

_No_ , he thought, catching that train of thought and stomping on it. _People are dying because this motherfucker is shooting them. That’s not on me. I’m trying to bring a better future to Kadara, whether they realize it here or not, and I_ will _succeed_. He threw himself back into reports, determined to find something that would give them a break.

Ryder called to let him know she was on her way back right after he’d gotten news of the second death, another sniper, but out in the badlands this time. Either the coward had a flitter, or there were more than one. The Charlatan updated her on the situation and urged caution. She swore even more colorfully than usual, threatening to hunt the fucker down herself if he was out in the badlands, but the Charlatan talked her down, convinced her to come home. She’d had her tank repainted, black with nebulous teal green splotches, and while it wasn’t the eye-catching gold it had been there was still only one Nomad on Kadara - and it wasn’t armed. He didn’t want to have to worry about where in the badlands she would turn up, just wanted her safely back with him. 

She hadn’t returned when he got the third call, but he’d wondered at the vibration that rumbled through the club not long before.

“Reyes…” Keema’s voice sounded strained when he answered. 

“Who?” the Charlatan asked, feeling his stomach drop out. That vibration, the way the floor had trembled...that could have been an explosion. 

She swallowed audibly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. A moment’s confusion. Why was she sorry?

_No._

“Ryder was seen coming into the slums by one of our people. There was a shot, some kind of biotic explosion...Reyes...she’s gone. Her squad was knocked back by the blast, but we can’t find her body.” 

The room whirled and he couldn’t breathe. Just then, a new message pinged from his omnitool. He pulled it up, unable to answer Keema. 

_< One down, one to go.  >_ Ryder’s picture had been overlaid with a much bigger X alongside his own.

Something snapped and his world went red. With a wordless roar, he wiped all the datapads he’d been working with off the table and flipped it, throwing it into the wall with a thud. The thudding continued, and he realized someone was banging on the door to his room. He ignored it. This morning, everything had been perfect. How had it all crumbled so quickly? Could he have prevented it, somehow? She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t - no. She wasn’t dead. There was no body. He just had to figure out what had happened. Calm, he needed calm, but there had been a shot and an explosion...where was she?

“Reyes!” screamed a voice from his wrist. Keema. He hadn’t ended the call. “Reyes, let Kian in! He has the Pathfinder’s squad!”

Reyes triggered the door panel. Cora limped in, blood streaming from a cut in her head, and Kian followed, supporting a wobbly Scott. He shut the door behind them. 

Kian looked around, eyebrows flashing upward, but wisely said nothing. Cora and Scott were too dazed to notice the state of the room as they settled onto the couch he hadn’t tipped over.

With an audience, it was easier to drag the Charlatan’s calm back into him. “What. Happened,” he bit out. Kian leaned against the door, watching him. The Charlatan ignored him, focusing on Cora. The huntress looked up and quailed at whatever she saw in his face. Good. If he could scare a commando, then he was back in control of himself. As he needed to be. 

“We’d just reached the edges of the buildings on the lower level,” Cora said, grunting as she poked at the cut on her head. “Ryder looked up and to the left suddenly, started doing something biotic, and then...I don’t know. A shot. I tried to throw up a shield...it must have interacted with whatever Ryder was doing because there was a biotic explosion. Scott and I were knocked back and when the dust settled, no Ryder. Oh, goddess,” she gasped, going ashen. “Did I kill her? Triggering an explosion? Oh, goddess…” Scott patted her shoulder, head hanging.

The Charlatan didn’t know enough about biotics to say one way or the other. “Is it possible for a body to be consumed in a biotic explosion?” he asked flatly. 

Shaken, Cora shrugged. “Maybe? If it was turned inward? I don’t know, I never saw anything like this when I was with the commandos.”

Kian, apparently having decided that the Charlatan wasn’t going to do murder just then, excused himself to fetch medical supplies and whiskey. 

“Could she still be alive?” the Charlatan asked in the soft tones of a man asking dangerous questions. She’d died before, and come back. Surely she’d come back this time. 

Cora looked up at him, eyes haunted. “Vidal, the shot I heard was a sniper rifle. A Widow, from the sound of it. That’s pretty much death wherever you’re hit.”

The Charlatan looked at Laz’ twin, and he nodded. The pain in Scott’s eyes ran deep. The Charlatan was sure he’d feel the same when he could allow himself to do so. 

Later. After he’d caught the walking dead man who had killed the love of his life and made him very, very sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was all going so well. O_O


	25. Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected source tells Reyes who the sniper is.

“Lock the port down,” the Charlatan ordered. Keema started to protest and he cut her off. “Lock. It. Down. Nobody in or out. Communications blackout. The only people who move or speak are our lieutenants and higher-level agents. Any agent under a death threat is to be taken into protective custody. Arrest anyone breaking curfew and hold them until we find the sniper. No beatings or torture, just hold them.”

“We’ll have riots!”

The Charlatan pinched the bridge of his nose, searching for patience, pushing aside the nagging feeling that he could have prevented this somehow. “We’ll have riots if snipers are allowed to gun people down in the streets. I’m not Sloane; I won’t randomly arrest and execute people until we find the right one. But we have to do something.” She didn’t answer. “Do you have a better idea?” he prompted coldly.

“No.”

“Then get it done. Curfew starts in one hour.” He closed the channel and looked over his shoulder at Kian, who was setting the room to rights. “Go tell the bar they have an hour to decide if they’re staying here until further notice, or going home.” Kian nodded and left. 

“Goddess,” Cora gasped. He turned back around to see her looking at him with something akin to horror. “You’re the Charlatan, aren’t you?”

 _Fuck_. In the urgency of the moment and the overwhelming emotion of losing the Pathfinder, he’d forgotten that only Drack and Vetra on her crew knew his secret. 

Scott looked between them, confused and suspicious, as the Charlatan locked eyes with Cora. Was she going to be a problem? Could he take out a commando if she was, or would she finish the assassin’s work?

“What’s the Charlatan?” Scott demanded, “And why is it making you look at him like that, Cora?”

Cora stayed frozen where she was, a mongoose sizing up a cobra. “The Charlatan leads the Collective, but no-one knows who they really are. Most people assume Keema,” she replied carefully. The Charlatan didn’t move, didn’t speak, waiting to see what she would decide. He could deny it, but they’d just watched him order the supposed leader of the port to do something and overrule her protests. He had to face this, or always be wondering if they’d be at his back.

“Okay, so? Aren’t we allies now?” Scott asked, missing the implications of his orders to Keema.

“Scott, the Collective started out as a criminal organization. Smuggling and gunrunning, mostly, but I’ve heard rumors of drugs as well. Vidal, in addition to brokering information and doing odd jobs for the Resistance, is a successful smuggler in his own right. And, it seems, the Charlatan himself.” Shock flashed over Scott’s face and he stood. Cora’s hand flashed out and grabbed his wrist, sitting him back down as the Charlatan eased into a ready stance and shifted his hand closer to his pistol. He didn’t want to kill Laz’ brother, but his survival had to come first. 

“Does...did...Ryder know?” Cora whispered.

The Charlatan glanced at Scott, who was shaking with barely contained outrage, then back at Cora. She was the greater threat. “Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Does it matter?” he snapped. He had bigger issues right now. Cora’s level stare and Scott’s dark look said they weren’t going to let this go. “Since I removed Sloane,” he said evenly. “She nearly killed me, but I convinced her otherwise.” 

Scott’s face blanked and Cora’s turned thoughtful. “The thing she discovered that you were trying to hide - it was your identity?” Scott asked, making the connection to the discussion they’d had while Laz was recovering on the Hyperion. The Charlatan nodded. “Drack and Vetra were with Ryder that day. They know, don’t they,” Cora said flatly. He nodded again, and Cora’s eyes grew hard. “Did you threaten them to keep them quiet?”

“I didn’t have to. Drack approves of how I run the port and Vetra understands how things work in the real world.” They said nothing, staring at him with judgment in their eyes, and he sighed. “Improving the lives of the people in Kadara Port has been my objective since Sloane proved herself unwilling. And yes, the Collective is a criminal organization. How did you think we were going to live, cut off from the Nexus in a hostile galaxy? We had no food, no supplies, attacking kett, unlivable planets…” His face hardened even further. Why was he explaining himself to them? “Don’t judge what you weren’t around to experience. Now. Are we going to have a problem?”

They continued to stare at him. He saw the wheels turning in their heads. Both were self-righteous and uptight to a fault, but both had seen how much he cared for Ryder. Cora had witnessed the drop in violence and increase in legitimate business in the port in the last few months, would have had access to many of the same reports the Pathfinder had. She knew Ditaeon thrived with the arrangement between the outpost and the port. Would it be enough?

She sighed. “Ryder trusted you. I don’t agree with your methods, but what’s done is done and there are bigger issues.” She looked at Scott. Interesting - was there something developing there?

Scott continued to eye him, and the Charlatan gazed right back, unflinching. “You told me before that you loved her. Were you lying?”

He shook his head. “No. I _love_ her,” he replied, correcting Scott’s tense. Scott’s eyes narrowed. “You think she’s still alive?”

The Charlatan smiled a jackal’s grin, the mirthless snarl of Anubis. “She’s come back from the dead three times already. I won’t believe she’s dead this time until I see her corpse.” Scott shuddered at the mental image but nodded. 

“Good,” the Charlatan said sharply. “If you’re not going to kill me or try to arrest me, I have work to do. You can stay here, or you have...forty minutes to make it back to the Tempest.” He fixed them with a sharp look. “I’m sure it goes without saying that this discussion doesn’t leave this room.” They nodded slowly, hearing the threat in his voice. Vetra and Drack may understand, but these two would bear watching.

Scott’s features firmed. “I want to help. If my sister is alive, I have to find her.” The Charlatan nodded, looked at Cora. She sighed. “I’ll help as well. I don’t know how anyone could have survived a blast like that, but...Ryder’s not just anyone. I’ll contact the Tempest and tell them to stay on board and go into lockdown. Then we can work on finding her while you find the sniper.”

Relieved, the Charlatan mentally pushed them aside, went to his terminal, and started analyzing the new reports that had come in. He kept them in his peripheral vision, though, not quite trusting them yet. 

A small voice shouted at him that if he’d told the Pathfinder about the threat earlier, this could have been avoided. She might be safe in here with him instead of...wherever she was.

Because Laz couldn’t be dead. And if she was, he’d find a way to bring her back again. 

###

“Pathfinder.”

Ryder resisted the urge to shush SAM. She knew he was speaking to her on their private channel, but after spending most of the night hiding in a hole underneath one of the buildings in the slums, it felt like there should be quiet. 

“Pathfinder, you need to seek medical attention. I am doing what I can, but this is beyond my capabilities.”

She knew that. Her chest throbbed just under the collarbone on the left side where the sniper’s bullet had struck and her right hand was sticky with blood where she’d been holding it to the wound. The dank water of the puddle she’d been sitting in had finally seeped through her underarmor, and she shivered. The slums were built in a huge cave that rarely got as much sun as the rest of the planet, and with the addition of being wet, underground, and stuck here at night, it was cold. She just hoped the usual occupant of her current hiding place didn’t return to claim it. 

Without SAM she’d have been dead twice over. As he had in the caves during Reyes’ face-off with Sloane, the AI had alerted her to the presence of a sniper on the walkway above. She’d simultaneously tried to put up a backlash shield and do a biotic blink to safety, but Cora had thrown something at the same time and the mixture of biotics had detonated as the bullet struck her. Fortunately, it had been slowed by the combined biotic shields and hit her at a fraction of its full power, rather than the head or heart. She’d blinked away instinctively and switched over to the infiltrator profile behind the cover of a heap of scrap, cloaking as she crawled away. With all the dried blood and other matter on the ground in the slums, she’d hoped nobody would notice a few more splatters of red. 

She’d found this hole by pure luck, slipping into it feet first and collapsing. She ordered SAM to entirely switch off or block the biometrics, location, and communications connectivity on her omnitool, not wanting to risk someone else getting shot trying to rescue her if the sniper was still out there. She just hoped Reyes, Scott, and Cora were all okay.

“Ryder,” SAM prompted again, and she realized she’d fallen asleep. That probably wasn’t good. “Perhaps Dr Nakamoto can help if you refuse to contact Reyes.”

“Don’t call Reyes,” she mumbled. “He needs to stay safe.” Although he probably thought she was dead. Her heart broke for him a little. The look on his face this morning...yesterday morning? Had been the look of a man who realized something profound about himself. He was doing so well, at least until he’d tried to handle this death threat without telling her. She frowned at that. He meant well, but he needed to get used to sharing control with her. She’d give him one more chance; old habits died hard and his were deeply ingrained. He was showing improvement, though.

“Ryder, can you walk or shall I send Dr Nakamoto a navpoint to this location?”

The AI was not quitting. She just wanted to rest a little longer. 

A thought struck her. If everyone thought she was dead, the sniper might, too. She could turn the tables on whoever it was. “How far is Nakamoto?” 

“His omnitool’s location data places him not far from his clinic.”

The clinic was up a level and on the opposite side of the slums. It would be a long walk, but she couldn’t ask him to make it. Slowly, painfully, she levered herself up and onto her knees, bending over to pant as her wound screamed at her. Fortunately, the lip of the hole was at chest height, was she able to stand fully in the low space, so she was able to wiggle out without using her left arm. Clenching that arm to her, she cloaked and forced herself to start walking. 

There were a few close calls when the cloak powered down and needed to recharge, with someone passing by her hiding spot and stopping to look at her once. She’d found a generator and smeared engine lubricant into her hair to slick it back and hide the distinctive blue shade, rubbing some on her face as well to hide her tattoo and generally look grimier. There was no hiding her armor though, so she’d dragged a piece of sheet plastic over herself for the minutes it took to recharge and hoped it would just look like she was just another heap of trash. Whoever it was kept walking. 

Reaching Nakamoto’s location seemed to take the rest of the night, even with the streets unusually empty, and the first false light of dawn was beginning to show when she knocked on the door. He was alone and asleep, according to SAM. She was so tired. “Can I rest now, SAM?” she muttered. He didn’t answer.

The door opened, and the doctor looked at her in confusion. “The clinic is back that way,” he pointed, not unkindly. “I don’t treat patients at my private quarters, and besides, the curfew -”

Ryder met his gaze, hoping he’d recognize her under the grimy disguise. “Doctor, please…”

His eyes widened and he looked over her shoulder before ushering her in and closing the door. He studied her as she wavered on her feet. “ _Pathfinder?_ ” he whispered incredulously. “But...the whole port is saying you died!” Seeing her about to fall, he sat her in a chair at the table. His quarters were small, a studio barely big enough for one, let alone two, especially if one of those was wearing the heavy armor that Ryder bore. 

“Almost,” she coughed, leaning back and peeling her sticky right hand away to show him the wound. He hissed between his teeth. “A few more inches,” he agreed. “As it is, I’ll need to administer antibiotics to avoid infection. That wound is filthy.”

Carefully, fumbling with unfamiliar clasps, he helped her remove the top half of her armor and had her lay on the room’s only bed. Ryder felt terrible, coming into his house and upsetting the tidy balance he had here, but she was desperate. She’d make it up to him later. Unzipping her underarmor, she tugged it back to give him better access while he gathered supplies. 

“Does Vidal know?” Nakamoto asked. It was still strange to Ryder that people knew they were together.

“No. Nobody. Only you.” She winced, thinking of how Reyes must have reacted to the news. He’d probably found a new level of the Charlatan in himself. And her squad...Cora and Scott would both take it hard. There was nothing for it. “I need to keep it that way, doctor. I need to track the sniper down before he kills again.” _Before he kills Reyes_. 

Dr Nakamoto shook his head sadly as he settled next to her and inspected the wound more closely with a small headlamp. “He already has. Two more since rumors started about you. Keema has the port and slums both under curfew. I’m surprised you made it.”

Ryder smiled wanly. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’ll say,” muttered the doctor as he started cleaning. She closed her eyes and let him work. “SAM, what data did you get from the sniper?” Nakamoto paused, confused, then continued when she explained, “AI in my head.” 

SAM answered on their private channel. “Biometrics suggest turian, likely male from the size of the signature. I can direct you back to where I think the shot came from based on bullet trajectory. The weapon was likely a Widow sniper rifle. Your backlash shield and Cora’s protective shield slowed the impact and reduced the destructive energy enough not to shear your arm from your shoulder.”

“So I’m lucky to have a small hole in me rather than losing an arm or taking a bullet to the head. Hooray for small miracles,” she muttered. The doctor grunted but kept working. 

“Indeed. The sniper’s omnitool was scrambled, so I was unable to gain information from it.”

Ryder frowned, thinking and trying to ignore the tugging and pulling as Nakamoto did whatever it was he was doing. “Ryder, someone is approaching the door,” SAM informed her.

“We got company, doc,” Ryder whispered, lifting her head to look at the door. 

He wasn’t concerned. “It’s locked. Put your head back down, please.” She did, only to bounce back up and push the doctor away when the grinding sound of a forced hack screeched through. 

A tall, turian outline stood in the darkened doorway. “I thought I saw someone breaking curfew,” a familiar voice said. 

“Mantis?” Ryder asked, relaxing slightly. It was less than ideal that she’d been seen, but maybe he could help. He stepped in, illuminated in the darkness by Nakamoto’s headlamp, and she started to lay back.

Until she saw the stock of a Widow sniper rifle peeking up from behind his back when he’d only ever been armed with assault rifles or heavy pistols before. 

Pistols like the one he was reaching for. 

Swearing, Ryder threw a biotic pull at him as the gun cleared its holster. It wasn’t her strongest biotic skill so it wouldn’t last long, but for a few seconds, he was trapped. “Drop it,” she barked, rolling out of the bed. Her chest started bleeding again, throbbing dully through the local anaesthetic the doctor had applied while he repaired damaged muscle. She drew her Eagle and leveled it at him when he didn’t. “Mantis…” He must have heard the threat in her voice because he did. She kicked it away as the pull field dropped. “Stay down,” she snapped. He knelt, hands up.

Mantis couldn’t be the sniper, could he? She didn’t want to believe it. But he was looking at her with hatred in his hard blue eyes. 

“Why?” she whispered. “I thought we were -”

“Allies? Friends?” the turian sneered. “Maybe if you had joined the Collective. But you twisted Vidal and got him to convince the Charlatan that we should ally with the Initiative. The same people who _murdered my wife_ in the Uprising.” His subvocals twanged and rumbled with pain and rage. “All these _traitors_ have forgotten why we had to leave in the first place. And now we’re reminding you.”

Ryder jerked as if she’d been slapped. “We?” There was more than one shooter?

Mantis’ jaw snapped shut with an audible click and his mandibles twitched. _Thank fuck turians are shit liars_ , she thought. Her choices just got harder though. Kill him, question him, or leave him for the Collective? 

“If you’re going to kill him, please don’t do it here,” Dr Nakamoto asked quietly. “I’m a healer. I can’t stand by and let someone die. Anyone, even...even an assassin.”

Ryder sighed, wanting to rub her eyes but wary of taking them off Mantis. “SAM, vanguard profile,” she ordered, wanting the extra melee boost. She let the physiological shift settle in, then cocked her fist and smashed the turian in the soft spot under his crest, where his faceplates ended. He dropped like a sack of rocks but was still breathing. _Now what do I do with him?_

She turned back to a grim-looking Nakamoto. “Am I good to go?”

He shook his head. “I need to do a bit more stitching, slather some medigel on, and then bandage you up. You shouldn’t use the arm for at least a week.”

With a resigned sigh, she laid back down for him to finish. She knew she should be tired, but adrenaline raced through her. _Mantis_ had shot her? He had seemed perfectly fine on Meridian, a bit on edge, maybe, but she’d put that down to the discomfort of being surrounded by the residents of the Hyperion. And someone else was out there gunning for them as well? Who? 

She’d have to contact Reyes. Whatever was going on, if it was his own people responsible, he could have a knife at his back right now. She hadn’t wanted to put him at risk, but it was out of her hands. _And it’s exactly the thing that you got angry about this morning, hypocrite_ , she scolded herself. 

As the soothing coolness of medigel eased some of the pain in her chest, she opened a channel to Reyes. Hissing static met her, and she frowned. 

“There’s a communications blackout in place,” Nakamoto explained. He helped her sit up so he could bandage her. 

“Like hell there is,” she grumbled. “SAM? Scramble it as well, please.”

“A moment, Ryder.”

The hiss of static quickly resolved itself and she got a clear tone indicating a connection. Reyes answered, his normally fluid voice rough and harsh. “Vidal.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. She’d been half afraid she was too late, that he’d been one of the two Nakamoto mentioned had been shot. “Who is this?” he demanded flatly. Definitely the Charlatan. 

“Hello, love,” she whispered, throat thick. Shocked silence was his response. Then, “Ryder?”

“Yeah.” She couldn’t find words for him. 

His were suspicious. “How do I know it’s you? Everyone says you’re dead.” 

She thought a moment. “The first time we slept together, you told me that it’s dangerous to make too much noise in Kadara Port.” He’d been fucking her with his fingers in a safehouse, covering her mouth with the other hand, looking down at her with dark triumph shining in his golden eyes.

“ _Where are you?_ ” he demanded, the words growled out in a rush. 

Ryder glanced at Nakamoto, asking his permission. He nodded, resigned. “I’m safe, for now. SAM, send the navpoint. Reyes...I have one of the snipers.”

His tone was sharp. “ _One_ of the snipers? So there are more. Yours is alive?”

“Yes. Maybe send some people you really trust, with hoods. You’re not going to like who it is.”

He knew better than to ask. “Get to this location, secure everyone present, hood them, bring them here. _Now_.” He snapped at someone in the background. She winced as the doctor fitted her with a sling and strapped her arm to her body. “Stay alive,” the Charlatan ordered her. 

“I’m trying. I’ll see you soon.” She ended the call as tears started to run down her face. The whole night was catching up to her; the pain, the fear, the fatigue. She wrestled herself back under control and asked SAM to switch her back to the infiltrator profile. 

Before long, a knock at the door announced the Charlatan’s men. “It’s open,” Nakamoto called, raising his hands. Ryder mimicked him and raised her good arm, not knowing if Reyes had told them who they were collecting. The door opened to reveal her brother and Cora.

“Scott?” she gasped. “You’re okay! Cora!”

They both froze and paled as if they’d seen a ghost while armored and helmeted men and women poured in. Ryder moved to stand in front of Nakamoto. “Hey, hey!” Everyone stopped and really looked at her. She pointed at Mantis. “He’s the one you want to be careful of. The doctor will need protection.” 

“And who the fuck are you?” an asari snarled. Shit, all of his people must be on edge. 

Cora answered for her in a whisper. “That’s the Pathfinder.”

The asari scoffed. “Pathfinder’s dead.”

“For once,” Ryder snapped, tired and wanting to see Reyes, “I’m not.” She injected command into her tone. “Secure him. Be gentle with the doctor. Get moving.” The armored figures straightened and shifted on their feet. “Where is he?” she asked Cora. 

“Tartarus.”

He’d been nearby this whole time, and Mantis had been so close. She shuddered. Reyes wouldn’t have survived the shot, and she’d been lucky. Better it was her Mantis saw in the slums first.

“Hey…” the asari started as she toed the turian onto his back. “Isn’t this -” 

The Pathfinder whirled on her. “It is, and he shot me. Secure him, and take him to Tartarus. I won’t ask again.” The asari swallowed and nodded, signaling to one of her crew for restraints. 

She turned back to Nakamoto. “Doctor, I’d prefer if you came with us for your protection, but I won’t force you.”

He considered a moment. “I’ll stay here. Everyone knows I’m a neutral party who will treat anyone. I don’t think I’d be targeted.”

Ryder nodded. “Up to you. Thank you, again. I owe you,” she said solemnly. Nakamoto nodded back, and she turned to go. Mantis had been bound and hooded, and two krogan had him slung between them outside. 

“How are we going to get you out of here? That armor is pretty recognizable,” Scott pointed out. She triggered her tactical cloak, and he grunted. “That works. Just stay in the middle of the pack with your head down in case it fails.” He started gathering the chest and arm plating that she’d had to strip off. Cora grabbed a few pieces as well.

She shook her head. “I’ll stay at the edge where I can duck into cover and not have the other sniper aiming through all of you if they’re out there.”

“I like that plan better,” the asari chipped in. 

“Good. Let’s go.” Ryder lurched out along with the rest of them. Fortunately, windows weren’t much of a thing in the slums, so between that, the narrow, winding passages, and the curfew hopefully no-one would notice that not all of the people who had approached Nakamoto’s door were leaving it. Especially if the other sniper was somewhere nearby. 

###

Reyes stepped out of his room at as he heard the troop of booted feet approaching. He cast his eyes over the small group but didn’t see Ryder, only Cora and Scott with pieces of her armor. “Where is the Pathfinder?”

A shimmer at his left side made him whirl with his gun up. It was her - tired, dirty, caked with filth and dried blood and her left arm in a sling, but alive. He held onto the coldness of the Charlatan by a fingernail and lowered his Sidewinder, but couldn’t help taking a deep breath of surprised relief and letting it shudder out again. Impossible as it seemed, he’d _known_ , deep in his heart, that she would come back, and here she was.

They regarded each other for a few seconds, eyes sweeping over the other’s face and form, cataloging status. Then she took a step to stand by his side. Business first, then reunions. They understood each other. 

“Show him who the sniper is,” she said coldly. Latassa, the asari he’d put in command of the squad, yanked the hood off the kneeling turian. He went cold when he recognized Mantis, who was staring at him with rancor. He hadn’t thought to look within the ranks of his own people for the shooter, and the oversight had nearly cost him Ryder. No wonder they kept hitting dead ends. They’d been hunting down all the wrong trails. 

“He has an accomplice,” Ryder continued. “Or implied he did.” 

The Charlatan forced himself to smile darkly, and Mantis flared his mandibles in the turian equivalent. “You know what I have to do now,” the Charlatan said softly. 

“I’m ready to meet my wife,” Mantis replied, equally quiet. 

The Charlatan made a sharp gesture and the two Nakmor krogan hauled him to his feet. “Take him down to the storage room. Soften him up. I’ll be down shortly.” The krogan grinned and hauled Mantis down the stairs, making sure he hit every step at a bad angle on the way down. 

“You can’t be serious,” Scott interjected. The Charlatan just looked at him calmly, levelly. “You’re dealing with criminals now, Scott. I do what I have to do to protect my people because if I don’t it will be seen as weakness and exploited by someone worse.” He turned to Ryder. Her face was hard but she met his gaze unflinchingly. “You’re sure it was him?”

She chewed her lip and glanced down, thinking. Not without doubt then, but she had evidence. “I’ll transfer you everything SAM put together, and you can check his rifle’s energy signature for what SAM recorded when I was hit. He practically admitted it before drawing on me, but I want to be certain.” He reached out and tipped her chin up to look at him. Her eyes were filled with anger and purpose, but no regret. Good. She wouldn’t stand in his way, as long as he could prove it. 

“Of course. We’re not the Outcasts,” the Charlatan replied, half directing the comment to Scott. The other Ryder looked outraged. “Lazuli, you can’t be serious!”

“Grow up, Scott,” she snapped coldly. “In Kadara Port, we play by the Collective’s rules.”

“So you’re sanctioning torture?”

The Charlatan watched as Laz stepped close and dominated his space. _She’s learned a few things from me_ , he observed, not sure that was entirely a good thing in the long run but finding it fascinating to watch. 

Scott stepped back a half step. “I’m sanctioning interrogating a suspect, if and when there is _proof_ of what he’s already admitted to, so that we can prevent further murders and let the people get back to their lives. Or do you think Alec became an N7 because he believed following the rules of an idealized society was the way to get things done?” Laz snarled nastily. _She has a point_ , the Charlatan thought. And Alec Ryder hadn’t been the only N7 to join the Initiative, so there must have been, on some level, an anticipation that that kind of mindset would be valuable.

The younger Ryder wasn’t giving up easily. “Don’t bring Dad into this.”

“You know I’m right.”

Cora stepped between them. “Scott, whatever you or I might feel about it, we’re not on our turf right now and fighting with your sister when she’s been shot is not going to fix it. Pick your battles.”

He locked eyes with his twin a moment longer, then stalked over to one of the benches nearer the outer door. Ryder rubbed her eyes with her good hand. “I don’t like this either, Cora. But we need to stop the killings and we need the port secure.”

Cora looked at her, then glanced over the Pathfinder’s shoulder to gauge his reaction. The Charlatan kept his face blank and arms crossed, refusing to interfere. “Just watch yourself, okay? This is a slippery slope you're standing on.” 

Ryder nodded and turned back to him as Cora went to join Scott. Her mask slipped, leaving her looking tired and pained. He held his arms out for her, finally able to embrace her with the onlookers gone. She slumped into him, burying her face in his chest and shuddering.

“I thought I'd lost you,” he whispered, turning them to step into his private room. She leaned into him with her uninjured right side and he shifted his arm to be more supportive at her waist.

She held him close with her good arm. “I’m yours,” she breathed as he squeezed her close and kissed her forehead. “And I made a promise that I’d always try to come back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys didn't really think I'd kill her, did you? Although tbh I scared myself writing that chapter; sometimes the story runs away from you.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left comments on the last chapter, you filled my morning with evil cackles of glee and spurred me to complete this chapter in record time!


	26. Zenith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Charlatan eliminates the threat to himself and the Collective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied torture, extra strong language. NSFW: Smut.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to queenofkadara, because she is the most awesome cheerleader and kept me going to make sure this fic could be completed this weekend. Also because her story ["The Charlatan and the Pirate Queen"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11041485) is awesome, and seeped into my headcannon with Reyes learning torture on Omega. Go check out her stuff!

Ryder had crashed as soon as the Charlatan had gotten her settled on the couch. She’d closed herself in the private room’s small bathroom for several minutes, scrubbing the grime out of her hair and from her face. Every minute counted in catching the second sniper but he stayed with her for fifteen more minutes, her head pillowed in his lap as he ran his fingers through her hair. He wanted more but she was in no shape for it at the moment, so he contented himself with being close to her and settling nerves frazzled by her apparent death. He would never have forgiven himself had she actually died; unlike her previous brushes with the afterlife, this time would have been on his watch. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if the krogan would complain about having more time to beat up a turian. For all the Initiative’s grand language about leaving old prejudices behind, they had arrived in Heleus to find them still deeply ingrained. _Imagine that_ , he thought sardonically.

Latassa had been up to inform him that Mantis was ready for interrogation. Her face had briefly shown shock at seeing the famous human Pathfinder asleep in his lap, wearing nothing other than her underwear and what was clearly one of his shirts from its baggy fit and being stroked like a cat, but she’d averted her eyes and delivered her report with more respect than she usually did. She didn’t know he was the Charlatan, only that he was highly-placed in the organization, and it amused him that she was more impressed by his relationship with the Pathfinder than she was by his apparent position. 

As the Charlatan headed down to the storage room, he realized that he was indebted to Nakamoto. He’d always liked the man and been impressed by his generous spirit and good works, but now he definitely owed the doctor more than his regular donation to the clinic. Ryder was alive rather than laying dead in the fetid waters of the slums’ lower levels because he’d had the courage to open his door and let her into his home. He made a mental note to reward the man accordingly. A larger clinic or better equipment, perhaps; Nakamoto was too humble to accept any direct restitution.

Mantis was already in bad shape when he got downstairs. The krogan hadn’t held back, and a few things had been broken. A leg spur, an arm, one of the spikes on his crest. The Charlatan studied him with a critical eye before turning to Kad, the more senior of the two. “Has he said anything useful?”

The red-eyed krogan shook his head. “Nah, just laughed a bit. Tough bastard,” he said, a note of respect in his voice. Tough indeed; the turian was chained to stand in an X, which couldn’t be comfortable with that broken arm. 

“Gonna take your turn, Vidal?” Mantis taunted. “Let’s see if you can do better than these two assholes.”

The Charlatan didn’t react. He didn’t like participating in torture, at all, but he’d had the reluctance beaten out of him on Omega, where he’d learned from a master sadist how best to cause pain to every species in the Milky Way without killing them. For all their bony plates and sharp spikes, turians were remarkably easy to hurt. He should know; his teacher had been one.

Turning to a nearby table, he selected one of the many implements available. The krogan watched raptly as he lifted it and turned to his victim. Without a word, he got to work. 

###

Ryder woke when Reyes entered the room, startling at the sound of the door opening and flaring biotically. He froze in place. “Easy, _mi reina_ , it’s just me.” He was still the Charlatan then; he named her differently when he wasn’t. She was his love when he was himself, and his queen when he needed to get shit done. Some inane corner of her mind wondered if he was aware of it as she slumped back into the couch. When he passed, she caught the sickly-sweet scent of dextro blood and realized he was drenched in blue-black liquid.

Her stomach flipped over on itself. He’d tortured Mantis personally.

Of course he had; he was the Charlatan and both she and his people had been shot by one of his own lieutenants. His deep-seated need for control would demand that he handle the betrayal himself, do everything he could to personally prevent the next death. Beyond that, he’d want revenge for what had been done to her. He could be a cold man, but when his temper flared...well, he was much like her in that regard. There was no stopping him from what he felt was necessary to rectify the situation. 

He was naked when he stepped out of the bathroom, his bloody clothes probably laying alongside her musty underarmor. Frightened and angered as she was by the whole situation, her chest throbbing as the anaesthetic wore off, her lower parts wanted him. Wanted the safety and strength he represented. He saw her watching him and stopped on his way to the crate in which he stored a change of clothes. 

“I had to do it, _mi reina_ ,” he defended himself in a low voice. Her heart twisted. She hated it and it scared her a little that he had the knowledge of how to torture someone, even as a chillingly bloodthirsty part of herself gloried in the destruction of her assailant, that her partner had avenged her when she was down. 

“I know,” she whispered, reaching for him. He came to her slowly, tentatively, as if unsure of his welcome, and she pulled him the rest of the way as soon as he was in reach. He sat down and thumped back against the couch, tipping his head back in exhaustion. Dark circles smudged the skin under his eyes, rare despite the fact that he didn’t sleep much even when things were going well, telling the depths of his fatigue. He’d had a long day dealing with this and fearing her dead, and it couldn’t be easy to hurt someone. Shouldn’t be, anyway. 

Cuddling closer, she put her right arm around him and touched her forehead to the side of his. Some of the tension left his shoulders, and he sighed. Right now it seemed that he needed to know he wasn’t alone, that she recognized what he had done for her, and for his people. For _their_ people, because she was queen of Kadara as much as he was its king. After another minute, she sat up, cupped his jaw, and pulled his lips to hers. 

When he growled, the sound of desire rumbling low in his throat, she carefully straddled his lap to deepen the kiss. His hands were on her body in a flash, caressing her firmly yet cautious of her left side. How he could continually balance so many things in his mind - the details of the Collective, his own business deals, her, the crisis of the moment - and still remember not to jostle her left arm even as he was passionately dancing his tongue with hers was beyond her, and it was one of the things she loved about him. 

She focused on that thought, on how much she loved him, how much she’d wished for one last moment with him in the hours after she’d been shot, as she reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock. He paused for a moment, as if surprised, and then one of his hands was clasping the back of her head to hold her close as the other found her clit, rubbing through her thin underwear. 

As soon as she’d stroked him hard, she tugged her panties to the side and slid him into her, throwing her head back in a silent groan as he filled her. Between her injury and his tiredness they wouldn’t be able to do anything vigorous, but they could manage measured passion. 

He used the hand cupping her head to pull her closer for a bite, and he sucked at her throat as she ground her hips against his with him buried inside her. The pressure of his lips and teeth on her pulse point made her gasp, and slowly, sensually, she rose up and pushed herself back down onto him. His mouth came free of her throat with a pop, and his hand shifted to grasp her hair and pull her head back. She allowed it, arching back, and he bit her right nipple through the shirt she was still wearing. The sensation made her grind hard against him, and they both moaned with pleasure.

The Charlatan grasped her by the throat as she swiveled her hips in slow circles, fixing him with a lustful snarl that he met with a smirk. Ryder moved sharply against him, thrusting her hips forward and rolling them back to use him to hit her G-spot. She fought the grip at her throat to lean in and kiss him, clawing at the back of his neck with her good hand. The pressure on her throat combined with the sensation between her thighs to trip her over the edge and she came, shifting to bite the sensitive skin under his right ear.

With a bitten-off roar, he came as well, forcing her head up to the other side to make another mark as he held her close. She kept moving against him with sharply punctuated rolls of her hips, glorying in the feel of him inside her until they both finished shuddering their completion. 

She rested her forehead against his, catching her breath. He grinned and kissed her. “I’m a little surprised, _mi reina_ ,” he admitted. “I thought you’d be too injured. Or too disgusted.” 

Ryder kissed her way across his jaw to his lips, lost herself in how they felt as they moved against hers. “I told you,” she murmured, “I’m yours. And I’m not blind to what it takes to keep the port safe. Besides, if today doesn't end well...I don't want to regret not taking advantage of every last moment with you.”

He clasped her to himself for long moments, running his left hand along her spine, soothing her with the movement. “Thank you,” he finally breathed.

“For what?” she asked, sensing an echo of their dance the night he’d revealed himself as the Charlatan. She felt his smile against her cheek and knew he was remembering the same evening. 

“For accepting me.”

###

Mantis hadn’t given up much before he’d died, the stubborn bastard, but he’d confessed that one more Collective agent was involved and the reason for this rampage. It seemed an extreme way to communicate disillusionment with the Collective, but when the Charlatan thought of what he'd been prepared to do had Ryder actually died, what he _had_ done beyond what was strictly necessary to get information out of his former lieutenant, he could begin to understand. It outraged him that four good agents had died and he'd nearly lost Ryder for Mantis’ discontent, though.

With the turian out of play, there were no more deaths reported in the time the Charlatan took to catch a few hours of sleep; the other assassin was probably regrouping. His people had been exempted from the comms blackout, which meant both Mantis and his accomplice had known every move the Collective made. Hopefully, Ryder’s scrambling her call meant that nobody outside Tartarus realized she was still alive. The Charlatan was relying on only three cells now, communicating via encrypted email. He’d allowed Ryder to bully him into taking a break to rest after sending out orders, not wanting to take a break but knowing he needed to be fresh when they found the other asshole.

As usual, he only got a few hours before his busy mind drove him from half-remembered dreams. Ryder was still out cold when he woke. She’d insisted on sleeping pressed against him on the bed in the room’s hidden chamber, her back to his front, despite the risk of his bumping her wound in their sleep. It was the darker mirror of waking up the day before, and the Charlatan was determined that this day would end differently. He kissed Ryder gently on the cheek, carefully extracted himself, and got up to check in with his people. 

Latassa’s cell had chased down all the new leads provided by SAM and torn out of Mantis while he slept, and identified four potential suspects. Crux’ cell and Keema’s had independently returned the same result given the same information, so it seemed those three cells were still loyal, at least - a welcome relief in this shitshow, because they were his three best. He’d put them in charge of re-interviewing every agent and cleaning house when this was all over.

Of the four suspects, one had an alibi in Kralla’s all day. Two were rounded up and held for questioning in the cells beneath Collective HQ. The last was unaccounted for and had last been seen in the badlands: Casen, a quiet, mousy little man who often drank with Mantis. The Charlatan had known Casen had a vicious mean streak, but hadn’t expected it to be turned on the Collective. 

With their likeliest suspect identified, all that remained was setting the trap. The Charlatan had Keema recall all of Casen’s cell from the badlands for reassignment to the murders. Either the man would see a golden opportunity to get closer to the remaining targets, or he’d stay out in the badlands and could be hunted down while the cell was questioned. 

A low groan of pain announced Ryder’s awakening. The Charlatan sent a last encrypted order and then went to sit on the edge of the bed, sweeping locks of brilliant blue hair out of her face. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. He knew she was hurting, so it was pointless to ask how she was feeling. She shifted her left shoulder and winced. “Do you have any pain meds?” 

“Kian might. I’ll find out.”

Fortunately, the bartender had an extensive supply of a number of drugs, legal and otherwise, behind the bar. Reyes was headed back upstairs with a couple of patches when Scott approached him. _I do not have time for this today_ , the Charlatan thought, steeling himself and giving the man a cold smile. 

Scott didn’t smile back. “How is my sister?” The Charlatan kept walking, speaking over his shoulder. “Alive, awake, and waiting on these.” He waved the pain patches. Laz was up when he walked back in, and from her scowl, Scott was right behind him. He’d have preferred to take a moment to appreciate the sight of his woman wearing nothing but his shirt and his love marks, but she was hurting and Scott was an unwelcome presence. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Lazuli. Really? Hickeys?”

Laz smiled lazily, completely unconcerned by her appearance. “What’s the matter? Jealous?” The Charlatan rolled up the sleeve over her left deltoid, tore open one of the little packets, peeled off the paper, and gently stuck the patch on. It wouldn’t be as effective as a tablet or a shot, but the local anaesthetic would keep her mind sharp while dulling the pain. “Get out, Scott,” he directed as he did it, tired of being nice to a man who refused to see the good he did and not in the mood for another Ryder sibling spat. “We’re heading over to HQ in twenty minutes, so tell Cora to be ready and gear up if you’re coming. We can escort you to the Tempest on our way up, or you can stay here.” He smoothed the patch, making sure it was flat, and started rubbing some knots out of Laz’ neck and shoulder blade to ease the strain on the muscle of her chest and shoulder. 

“I’m coming with you,” Scott insisted. 

_Stars save me from Ryder stubbornness_ , the Charlatan swore in his head. When he spoke, it was with the full, cold arrogance of command. “We will escort you to the Tempest then. You’re not coming inside HQ.”

Scott swallowed, then got a muley look. “You’re not my commanding officer.”

“No, but I am,” Laz snapped. “Do as he says, or you can go back to the Nexus and ask one of the other Pathfinders to take over your training. I’ve had enough, Scott. You don’t have to like Reyes, but you will quit this nonsense if you want to stay on the Tempest.”

Scowling, Scott stomped out. Ryder leaned into the Charlatan’s massaging hand. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “We’ve always had a difficult relationship, and coming here hasn’t improved it.” He made a non-committal noise and kissed the back of her neck before coming round to stand in front of her. “Let’s get going. We have an appointment with an assassin.”

A cold, feral grin spread across her face, making her look wild and dangerous. His cock stirred. _Later_ , he reminded himself. Once the traitor was dead, he’d have all the time in the world to fuck her. 

***

Casen took the bait, arriving at HQ with the rest of the cell. Keema called each member into the smaller chamber adjoining the throne room for individual reassignment. The Charlatan and the Pathfinder waited in the corridor leading to the living quarters for him to be called in.

“Casen,” Keema said neutrally, and his ears pricked up. “Before I give you your new assignment, I need to clarify a few discrepancies in your schedule over the last few days.”

“Discrepancies, ma’am?”

“Yes. Reyes?” Keema called. Ryder cloaked, and he opened the door and stepped into the room. 

Casen’s face twisted into a mask of rage. “What is this traitor doing here?”

Keema cocked her head. “Traitor?” she asked in a frigid voice. “Vidal isn’t the one whose activities I can’t account for over the last two days, during which four of our comrades - including one from your cell - and the human Pathfinder have been assassinated.” The Charlatan watched Casen smirk when the Pathfinder’s death was mentioned, hatred burning in his dark eyes. “He’s also received a death threat,” Keema continued. 

“ _Because he’s a traitor!_ ” Casen roared, drawing his sidearm. Keema froze and the Charlatan stood very still, hands raised in an effort to avoid presenting a threat. Ryder shimmered back into view behind Casen, her Eagle pointed at the back of his head, and the Charlatan tried not to look at her.

“What did I do?” he asked softly.

The smaller man shook with fury. “You let that _cunt_ of a Pathfinder talk you into convincing the Charlatan to let you make a deal that will turn the Collective into Nexus slaves. Mantis told me all about it. I won’t go back, I won’t be used as cannon fodder in an endless war with the kett!” He paused, panting, then smiled. “But your precious Pathfinder bitch is dead, and now you can join her,” Casen spat.

“Surprise, fucker,” Ryder said. Casen whipped around, gun coming up, and Ryder clocked him in the face with the butt of her pistol. He crumbled, bleeding from an obviously broken nose. 

The Charlatan approached, resting a hand on Ryder’s shoulder as they looked down at him. She was trembling, and he wrapped an arm around her. “Shh sh sh, it’s okay,” he murmured. 

Her right arm went around his waist and squeezed, the pistol still in her grip pressing uncomfortably into his side. “He could have shot you. He could have shot you before I would have been able to drop him, and -”

“He didn’t, though, _mi reina_ ,” he broke in. “I’m right here, you’re alive, and we got both of the _culeados_ who thought they could take us down.” He turned her chin toward him and caught her eyes. “We’re the top of the food chain here. _Nobody_ fucks with us and gets away with it.” She nodded, looking calmer, and he turned back to Keema. 

“Interrogate him. Make sure he’s the last one.” Keema nodded. “What should I do with him once we’re sure?” she asked. 

The Charlatan’s smile was all teeth and nothing friendly. “Whatever the fuck you want. You’re running Kadara now, remember?” 

Keema grinned back, pleased as she always was when his orders left more in her control. As she started summoning her people, the Charlatan turned the Pathfinder back towards their quarters. There would be a lot of work to do in the next few weeks, including interviewing and re-evaluating every single one of his people to see if any others shared Mantis’ interpretation of events, but for now, he wanted to celebrate being alive with his woman. They hadn’t even come close to the zenith of what was possible for the two of them together, and now there was one less obstacle in their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BANG! It's done!
> 
> A huge, massive, humble, grateful THANK YOU to all the readers, with a double helping for all the commenters. You guys make this worth doing and I appreciate you more than I can say. This is the longest thing I've ever written, and it was difficult at times for various reasons, but knowing there were folks out in the world waiting to read the next chapter helped spur me on. So again, thank you. I love you all! xx
> 
> If there are any questions you didn't feel were answered, don't worry, there will be more of these two soon. (But still tell me - I love writing stuff that people want to read.)


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